Man Out of Time
by samptra
Summary: "I did not go through a weird tear in the air again. There was no crazy terreract driven machine…and I defiantly did not go back in time." This was all some sort of dream he was having, a nightmare one that he'd awake from in his bed, in Avengers Tower, in the year 2013.
1. Time Waits for No Man

Disclaimer: All intellectual copyrights property of Marvel, I'm just borrowing.

Genres: Romance, action, adventure

Story: This was all some sort of dream he was having a nightmare one that he'd awake from in his bed, in Avengers Tower, in the year 2013.

Author's Note: As promised, my wonderful beta ravingbeauty has come through and is now working her way through this beast. So have a little patience and I shall being getting the new and improved version up as I receive new chapters! Big thanks to ravingbeauty for being so patient with me.

Man Out of Time

Part 1 – Time Waits for No Man

"_No. I cannot expect you to believe it. Take it as a lie-or a prophecy. Say I dreamed it in the workshop. Consider I have been speculating upon the destinies of our race until I have hatched this fiction. Treat my assertion of its truth as a mere stroke of art to enhance its interest. And taking it as a story, what do you think of it?"_  
― HG Wells, _Time Machine_

He was insane.

There was really no other way to describe him. He was loud, in your face, and he didn't hold back anything. And at the same time he was courageous, patient, and generous to a fault –or so Steve Rogers was coming to realize. Most of all, though, Steve was beginning to realize he couldn't get the amazing Anthony Stark off his mind. It was a dangerous pastime, he thought as he deflected yet another attack.

"What's going on down there, Spangles? Not on your game today?" a gentle voice teased over the com link. Others might not have known it from his tone, but the super soldier could tell Tony was worried.

"Sorry," he grunted, firing off his shield at another group of the electronic menaces.

Above the melee, keeping an eye out and blasting anything that looked remotely threatening to the man in blue spandex, Iron Man did his best to push aside his concern. The Captain seemed out of it today, like he was having trouble focusing. The sooner they ended this fight, the better off they were going to be.

"Sir, there is a scrambled transmission coming through. I believe you had better listen."

Tony dodged out of the way as another robot blasted at him. "Put it through, JARVIS."

"-Only have one chance at thi-" Tony could faintly hear a male voice through the static. "Hold off as long as-"

Tony frowned, his quick mind connecting the dots. The robots below were a distraction; something bigger was going down. "JARVIS, triangulate the source of the signal." He took off as the AI brought up the location on his screen.

"Where is Stark going?" Clint yelled as he fired off another arrow. The exploding head detonated on impact; he'd have to thank Tony for the new design.

"Not sure," Natasha said, dodging out of the way of the Hulk as he roared laugher, swinging by with what had once been a machine in each hand.

Steve, hearing the other two, looked up in time to see the gold and red blur take off. Where was he going? Steve was worried. "Stark, what's going on?"

There was a pause before the man responded, "Something's off, Cap. Headed to check it out."

Moving quickly, Iron Man blasted through the side of the warehouse, hearing the Cap's voice in his head chastising him for going in blind. He scanned the room as he stepped inside; the place was crammed with equipment. Tony blinked in surprise. "What the hell is going on here?" he mumbled.

A wild-looking man in a lab coat furiously worked the controls as a slender, sinister man glared angrily at Iron Man. Something was off about the second man, but Tony had no time to place it.

What really caught Tony's attention was the small sliver of blue sparking and throbbing at the heart of the machine – a part of the tesseract. "Oh, this is so not good…" Tony muttered to himself.

Just then the sinister man stepped backwards into the machine. "You can't stop this, Iron Man," he yelled fervently, nodding towards the man in the lab coat.

Tony only hesitated a moment. "What am I not going to stop?" he asked, voice tinny and echoing in the suit. The machine was booting up now, whirring to life, growing louder. The man in the suit grew more worried by the moment. "JARVIS, send my position to the others," he muttered.

The man laughed wildly as he spat out, "I'm going to kill him, Iron Man, before he even knows what he will become."

Tony stepped forward, finally realizing what was off about the unknown man; he was wearing the same old-fashioned clothes Steve was so fond of. There was no way… his mind rebelled at the idea that had begun to form.

"Say good-bye to Captain America," the man spat as the blue pulsed, humming and alive, and a rift seemed to appear in the air. Grinning maniacally, the man stepped through.

Tony didn't think, didn't even stop to consider. He dived in after the man, his mind focused on one thing – he had to save Steve.

In the warehouse the rift closed. Shaking, the man in the lab coat stood by as the blue light flared then contracted before disappearing completely. The colossal machine slowly shut down, leaving him alone in the deafening silence.

"Tony!" A man in a torn and dirty red, white, and blue uniform rushed through the hole in the side of the warehouse. Shield in hand, he stumbled to a halt and stared at the equipment. There was a lone figure standing the room and no sign of Iron Man. In an instant the Captain was across the room, angrily grabbing the terrified scientist by the front of his shirt and lifting him clear off his feet.

"Where is Iron Man?" Captain America demanded, eyes hard.

"Please, no… please don't hurt me!" The scientist held his hands up in surrender, "I'll tell you everything!" Frightened he began to babble rapidly.

Steve didn't twitch as, between whimpers and pleas for mercy, the unknown man spilled his guts.

Captain America understood none of it. It was science-speak and he needed a translator. "Widow, is Banner back yet? I need him here now," he growled over the communication line, in no mood to be polite.

Outside, Natasha blinked. Steve sounded angry… beyond angry, even. "Yes, he'll be there in a minute." She glanced at Banner as he dusted himself off and shrugged into a shirt, "Steve sounds pissed. I wonder what Tony did now."

Steve refused to release the captive as he stood waiting for Doctor Banner to come make some sense out the mess. He didn't have long to wait; the others hurried in moments later.

Bruce paused to stare in shock at the large mechanical contraption.

"Banner, Tony is missing… I need to know what happened."

Nodding absently, Bruce joined the pair.

"Tell him," Steve growled. The scientist, who had looked relieved to see the others arrive, began to snivel once more, still firmly in the grasp of Captain America.

Bruce said nothing as the man spoke; he simply listened, eyes getting wider by the second.

Impatient, the super soldier was growing more worried and frustrated by the minute. Where was Tony? "What's going on? Where's Iron Man?" he growled.

Bruce lay a soothing hand on his arm, "Steve… calm down, we need him alive. The situation is… it's complicated."

Finally releasing the man, Captain America stepped back, tugging his cowl off to run an agitated hand through sweaty hair. "Can someone just tell me what's going on? Where is Tony?" he pleaded. Clint and Natasha gathered nearby to listen.

"If Doctor Broker here is telling the truth…" he gripped Steve's arm steadily. "Steve, he's telling me he was hired to build this machine in order for a man to travel back in time."

There was utter silence.

Everyone stared in shock at the dark haired, disheveled Doctor Banner. "The purpose, to send them back to 1943, was to kill you before you become Captain America."

Blue eyes blinked, uncomprehending. "Back in time to… to…" Steve was having a hard time wrapping his mind around the words.

"To kill you, yes, but that's not the worst part," Banner turned as he spoke, growling at the horrified doctor, who looked like he might make a break for it. The Black Widow grabbed his collar effortlessly.

"He said Iron Man followed him through."

-#-#-#-

It felt like someone had ripped his insides out and dunked them in ice water. He wanted to scream in agony, but his vocal cords weren't cooperating. It was all bright colours and rushing wind.

Tony had no idea if it had been hours or minutes, but suddenly all was dark and he was falling. It was night, blacker than he could ever remember.

"JARVIS?" he wheezed. His helmet was eerily silent. Cursing, Tony tried to power up his thrusters, feeling panic rise when nothing happened. "That's not good," he mumbled to himself. He was falling faster now as the ground rushed up far too quickly.

"Come on…" he pleaded as he reached down to pull the failsafe on his leg and the thrusters finally ignited. Grunting with effort, he managed to maneuver enough to soften his crash with the side of a warehouse. In a blazing arch of glory, he burst though several walls until he hit a concrete pillar with a solid thunk.

His suit flickered briefly before shutting down completely. Panting and exhausted, he leaned his head back against the column with a small metallic clink. Shutting his dark eyes, he tried to center his wildly spinning thoughts.

"This isn't happening. This isn't real," Tony repeated as he whacked his head against the pillar a few times. "I did not go through a weird rift in the air again. There was no crazy tesseract machine… and I definitely did not go back in time."

This was all some sort of horrible dream – he was having a nightmare and he'd awake in his bed, in Avengers Tower, in the year 2013.

He heard noises then, the sounds of rumbling trucks and booted feet running.

His rational, if still somewhat disbelieving, mind analyzed the situation in a flash. If this wasn't a dream and he _had_ somehow been catapulted into the 1940s, there was no way they were going to understand a man wearing the most advanced armor of the 21st century.

He had to hide it fast.

He hurriedly glanced around. The place was pitch black save for the blue glow of his chest, but he could see a hole in the wooden floor. As the trucks rumbled closer, he moved to the farthest corner of the room and began pulling release levers, stashing the distinctive gold and red armor as fast as he could.

Legs and arms free now, he could hear voices. Just as he removed the chest piece and hid the last of it away, flashlights began to sweep the inside of the building. Quickly zipping his hoodie up, he managed to conceal the glow of his arc reactor just as they spotted him. Tony raised his hands in what he thought was a non-threatening manner and took a few steps towards them, mainly to draw attention away from the hidden suit.

"Stay where you are!" a man bellowed, blinding him with a flashlight.

Tony froze. "Hey, guys…" He wracked his brain – what the hell could he say?

The click of guns followed; this was so not good.

"Fraser, Johnston, subdue him." Two men rushed forward to grab his arms, roughly twisting them behind his back.

Finally Tony was able to get a good look at who he was dealing with. He had thought it was perhaps the cops, but going by the uniform he was dealing with the military. The two young men holding him looked very nervous. Tony eyed them, deciding he could easily subdue them; that, however, would make his rather precarious situation even worse. They forced him to his knees as more men approached, weapons at the ready.

"Look, fellas, I'm really not a threat," he tried again, putting on the old winning Tony Stark smile.

Tony barely had time to register the butt of a gun speeding towards him before the world abruptly faded to black.


	2. Time Out

Author's Note: Next part from the hands of amazing beta ravingbeauty! Looking much better all cleaned up!

Man Out of Time

Part 2 – Time Out

The freezing water brought him around.

Gasping and sputtering, Tony blinked cold water from his eyes and shook his throbbing head. "Ow!" he winced, trying to clear his rather fuzzy mind.

A second bucket of water had him growling, "Again with the water?" He shifted and pulled fruitlessly against the restraints, finding he was handcuffed to the chair. "Oh, good," he muttered.

A quick assessment told him he was not in a good position. In addition to being handcuffed to a metal chair, he was somewhere dark, damp, and musty by the smell. Squinting he tried to see into the darkness surrounding the small pool of light he sat in.

"What is your purpose here?" a gruff voice growled from somewhere in the darkness.

Tony twisted his neck trying to see the unknown man from the corner of his eye, "Purpose where?" A heavy fist flew at him, connecting with the side of his face, snapping it to the side. As he tasted blood, Tony rolled his chin to his chest, grinning.

He was hit several more times in the gut, in the face. Never one to know when to quit, Tony looked at where he thought the assailant was, "You hit like a bitch."

That earned him a solid beating, but he never once dropped his lunatic grin as the man worked him over. It wasn't the first time his smart-ass mouth had gotten him into trouble and it probably wouldn't be the last.

"Enough," a new voice interjected from the shadows and the beating came to a halt.

As Tony coughed harshly, blood splattered on the concrete floor before him. He grimaced and took stock; he could already feel his face swelling. Panting, the unknown burly solider stepped away from him.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Please leave us," the other voice dismissed.

As the growling soldier turned away, Tony wheezed, "I'll miss you," and managed a wink, earning him a last parting shot that finally broke his nose. "Motherfucker!" he cursed, scrunching his face in pain.

"Such language," the softy accented voice tutted.

Ears ringing, Tony Stark hung his head, breathing harshly as blood dripped steadily onto his chest. Everything throbbed in time with his heartbeat. He wearily glanced up at the sound of something metal scraping across the floor towards him; the too bright light hurt his eyes.

A vaguely familiar older man appeared in the light, settling on the chair, gathering his white lab coat about him.

"Sorby…" Tony slurred.

The older man adjusted his glasses. "Let me fix that for you," he said as he leaned forward and easily snapped Tony's nose back in place. Tony inhaled painfully, biting back the curse that wanted to spill from his bloodied lips.

"Now then, Mr.…?"

Tony blinked, eyes watering painfully, his head still muddled. "Tony," he offered.

The older man nodded and leaned back in his chair, seemingly unperturbed by the surroundings, "And I am Doctor Abraham Erskine."

The name caught Tony's attention immediately; he knew that name.

"I must apologize for the harsh treatment. We are, you understand, living in difficult times."

The injured man swallowed thickly, gagging on the metallic bite of blood.

"And you, Tony, have caused a great deal of commotion. We received reports of bombs falling on the warehouse where you were found."

Rapidly swelling eyes blinked. "Where am I?" Tony finally managed, his mind beginning to function again.

The doctor stared at him steadily, "You are in a secret underground facility in New York City."

Then Tony hesitantly asked the question he'd been dreading the most. "What's the date?" he croaked.

Erskine arched an eyebrow, "September 14th, 1943."

The date rang like a death knell in his head… this was real. This wasn't a dream and it wasn't a nightmare – this was fucking real.

He had gone back in time.

The beaten man inhaled sharply, on the brink of a full-blown panic attack.

"Are you well, son?"

Tony looked at his lap, trying to fight the rising tide of fear that threatened to overwhelm him. He had to get his shit together fast. There was a reason he was here, a reason he had followed that man through the rift.

As he sat beaten and cuffed to a chair in the cold, desolate room, his brilliant mind kicked into overdrive. He could panic later; right now he had to get out of here and get to Steve. Every movie, book, or theoretical paper he could recall rolled through his consciousness in an endless stream of data.

"I, umm…" he had to tread carefully. If there was one rule to time travel that appeared again and again, it was that you damn well didn't mess with the timeline. The smallest change could completely alter the events of the future.

Still, he needed some help in this time and if there was one man who would perhaps believe him, he was sitting before Tony now.

"Doctor…" Tony started, unsure where to begin; a delicate balance of truth and vagueness was required. He leaned forward to speak, "I am not a Nazi, nor am I a Nazi sympathizer. The truth is far more unbelievable than that." Lowering his voice Tony glanced around, confirming they were very much alone, "My name is Anthony Stark." He saw the surprise in the doctor's eyes as the name caught his attention. "I am, or at least I will be, the son of a man you know, Howard Stark. I am from the year 2013."

Tony waited for the snort of derision, the disbelief, hell, even another punch in the face. But Erskine looked impassive. The doctor was sitting in solemn silence when an idea suddenly occurred to Tony. "Unzip my sweater," he offered. "I can prove it."

Erskine hesitated a moment before he did as requested. His eyes widened as the blue light was revealed. "What is…" he trailed off. As the doctor reached out to touch the metal, Tony shied away defensively.

"It keeps me alive," Tony murmured as Erskine withdrew and closed the zipper once more. "It also powers a metal suit I created." He looked pleadingly at the man, hoping he was getting through, "Doctor, the work you're doing, the serum, Project Rebirth… it's… it's…" He paused, trying to find the right words to make his point. "Your work here will have far-reaching effects, and there are some people who want to make sure it doesn't happen."

"There is no way you could know of the serum, or the project," Erskine said softly, looking thoughtful.

Tony shrugged, "Doctor, I know it seems radical and completely far-fetched. If I were you, I probably wouldn't believe me." The dark haired man frowned, realizing the utter futility of this. He was unable to quit, though; Steve needed him. "But it's the truth and I'm here to make sure that they don't succeed."

Brown eyes stared at the man long and hard, willing him to have a little faith. They said nothing as the heavy silence stretched on. Tony sure his heart was going to pound out of his chest.

Then, without a word, Doctor Erskine stood and left the room.

Tony sighed heavily as he heard the metal door click shut. Collapsing against the chair, he sat dejectedly. That had been his one and only chance. Suddenly weary beyond endurance, he closed his tired eyes and let his head loll to his chest. Today had certainly taken a drastic turn for the worse; it seemed like a lifetime since he'd been fighting with the Avengers in modern New York.

He chuckled desolately. "What would Steve do?" he mumbled softly.

-#-#-#-

The second time he woke it was much gentler.

"Tony?" the now familiar German accented voice was back.

Blinking, Tony shifted, forgetting for a moment he'd taken a beating, and groaned in pain. "Doctor?" he mumbled. Distantly he heard the clink of handcuffs and felt the circulation painfully return to his hands. Rubbing his bruised wrists, he looked up at the doctor ruefully. "You taking me to the loony bin?" he asked, only half joking.

The good doctor chuckled, "Not today, I'm afraid."

Standing gingerly, Tony painfully turned to face the other man, "What made you believe me?"

Erskine paused, "Truthfully, I'm not sure I do, but there are fantastic things happening. If you truly are who you say and want to see my work succeed, then I will help you in any way I can."

Tony inclined his head, "I'm in your debt, doctor."

The older man handed over a bundle of clothing and turned to lead Tony down a long hallway, "Don't thank me yet."

Holding the clothes, the man from another time trailed after him.

"I have managed to convince Colonel Phillips that the disturbance earlier was indeed you, a high level operative, testing cutting-edge military equipment."

Tony smirked; it was a brilliantly simple explanation.

"I also convinced him to recruit you for Project Rebirth," the doctor continued.

Things were working out better than Tony had hoped and he waited for the other shoe to drop. "What's the catch, doc?" he asked as they paused outside a new door.

The other man pushed the door open to reveal what looked like a locker room, "Welcome to the United States Army."

-#-#-#-

It couldn't be true. There was no way any of it was real. Steve had thought he had seen everything in this new confusing time, that there was nothing left to confound him – except this.

Steve's world had devolved into chaos with the discovery of the time machine.

SHIELD had quickly taken Broker and his creation into custody. The man had been in the interrogation room with Banner and Fury ever since.

Unable to do anything to help, Steve was restless, angry, and frustrated. He didn't even understand anything that was happening. What really bothered him, however, was Tony. Why had he gone? Why hadn't he called for back up? Why hadn't he called for _him_?

"This is my usual spot, Cap," a teasing voice cut through his heavy thoughts as Clint settled down beside him on the catwalk above the lab. Below them people bustled around the newly acquired technology, trying in vain to replicate Broker's work.

"Any progress?" Steve asked as his blue eyes stared blankly at the activity below.

Clint glanced at Captain America; the super soldier looked tired and drawn. Dirty and disheveled, he had shed his uniform top. Now clad only in blue spandex, he rested his chin on his arms listlessly. "None that I can understand," Clint answered. "All that science jabber makes my head ache."

Steve gave him a half smile and said nothing more. Sitting in the companionable silence, he was thankful for the quiet company.

His head and heart were in knots. Since he'd woken from the ice a year ago, scared and alone, he had come to rely on one person – Tony Stark. Complete opposites, they'd had a rocky start. Steve smiled a little, remembering their silly arguments before a friendship had gradually formed.

Despite the loud, brash talk, Steve had learned Tony was so much more than the image he showed to the world. He had more patience than any man he'd ever meant, a bizarre trait for a man who worked with such quick technology. Time and time again Tony would explain the confusing appliances and machines that everyone now seemed to run on; he always had time to answer Steve's questions, no matter how silly or irrelevant.

Steve had spent many a sleepless night sitting in the bustling lab, watching the genius work. As he confided his fears and nightmares, he had found a best friend in the most unlikely of places.

More recently, Steve had found his feelings moving beyond friendship. When he wasn't thinking about Tony, he was worrying about him. Tony had come to mean more to him than he'd thought possible – and now he was gone.

"Hawk, you up there?" Banner called from below them.

"Yeah," Clint yelled back.

"Have you seen the Cap?"

Steve spoke up, "Here." Hawkeye moved to slide down the rope to the floor while Steve vaulted off the catwalk and landed before the other man easily.

Banner blinked in surprise, "Adopting Hawkeye's habits?" His joke fell flat with the Captain.

The smaller blond joined them then, "Got any news?"

Nodding, Banner adjusted his glasses, "It's not good."

Steve clenched his jaw, steeling himself, as Bruce pointedly focused on Clint, well aware of how close Steve and Tony had become.

"The machine was powered by a small distilled sliver of the tesseract. According to Broker his benefactor provided it." Running a hand through wild hair, Bruce finally looked up at the worried super soldier. "The machine was only meant to work once. Without the tesseract to power it…" he trailed off, looking infinitely sad.

Steeling himself, the doctor took a deep breath and continued, "It was only ever meant to be a one way trip. Steve, I'm so sorry… we have no way to bring Tony back."


	3. Time Stands Still

Author's Note: I love this story so much, I really do. Thanks again ravingbeauty it's only getting better.

Man Out of Time

Part 3 – Time Stands Still

"Tony?" the familiar voice called out.

As Doctor Erskine entered the makeshift lab, his eyes widened in surprise. The place was already filled with machinery, parts, and papers, but it was nothing compared to what lay in pieces on the table. Erskine was drawn like a moth to the flame; it was a marvel of human engineering. The man claiming to be from the future had said the blue glow within him had powered a suit and here it was – perhaps looking a little worse for wear, but indeed real. It was almost impossible to believe such a thing had been made by man.

"Hey, doc," the dark haired inventor said as he appeared from the far side of the room, dirt and grease streaking his arms.

"I see you are settling in," the doctor commented, still fascinated by the red and gold creation gleaming on the table.

The younger man hummed his agreement, tossing a tarp over the table to hide his work from view. The doctor was mildly put out; he would give anything to be allowed a closer look.

Reluctantly he faced the mysterious man, "I am heading to the recruiting office. We are still looking for the ideal candidate for the program."

Tony frowned thoughtfully as he fished out a small book from one of the many pockets in his new uniform, "The office near the Expo?"

Erskine nodded, watching curiously as Tony leafed through the pages, seeming to come to a decision.

"I'm coming with you, just a second," Tony said as he hurried to change.

"I will meet you outside," Erskine commented, closing the door behind him.

-#-#-#-

Tony Stark had been in 1943 for barely a day, and he was already enlisted in the army, or, more accurately, shanghaied. It wouldn't have been his first choice, but from what he could see it was the best course of action. After all, it was World War II; everyone was in the military.

Hurriedly he pulled on his new dress uniform. The doctor had moved fast, creating a phony enlistment certificate and procuring him a dress uniform and khakis. "Steve would get a kick out of this," he mumbled, ignoring the pang in his chest. Doctor Erskine was a lifesaver, getting Tony on the inside where he'd be better able to keep an eye on Steve – or at least he would when he finally found him.

Fighting with the belt and buttons, Tony managed to make himself halfway presentable. Satisfied, he headed for the door, purposely bypassing the small mirror above the sink. He knew his face was an utter disaster at the moment; the doctor had patched him up after dropping the bomb about his enlistment, but there had been only so much he could do. Face swollen and distorted, he wras sporting two black eyes and a viciously split lip.

Buttoning up his coat, he wet his hair and slicked it back before tugging on his cap. The whole process was utterly surreal. Once he had adamantly denied being a soldier to Steve and now here he was in 1943, in full uniform.

Tony knew he was playing a dangerous game. He hadn't stopped moving; he'd refused to stop and think. The fear, confusion, and disbelief were still there in the back of his mind, waiting for him to break. So he had kept going, focused on the mission at hand.

Steve would be proud.

Getting his suit back to the makeshift lab undetected had been fun.

His next step had been to furiously scribble out every detail he could remember from Steve's file. Whoever was going to try and kill Captain America needed to get to him before the serum; logically, it would be their best chance. With this in mind, Tony pulled on memories from his father's files and conversations with Steve to map out his movements. He knew he was going to be at the Expo and it was going to be the turning point of his life. What better time to kill him?

As presentable as he was going to get, Tony joined the doctor, who was casually leaning against the wall waiting for him.

"Before I forget," Erskine said as he handed Tony something that clinked in his hand.

Curious, Tony looked down – dog tags. Squinting at the name in the dim light of the underground hallway, he stumbled when he saw the name, Anthony Stark. Harsh, unforgiving reality threatened to overwhelm him again; that was his name on those metal identification tags.

"To everyone else, in the records on file, you shall be Tony Starling. I thought, though, just in case something was to happen…" he trailed off.

Tony nodded and pulled the tags over his head, tucking them under his shirt. As he walked in step with the doctor, he could hear the faint metallic click of the tags against his arc reactor. Pushing aside the overwhelming sense of hopelessness, he took a breath and followed the doctor closely as they headed out into the fall evening.

-#-#-#-

Tony was trying to look everywhere at once.

It was the World's Expo, the cutting edge in technology of the time. Tony turned left and right, trying to take everything in. Despite the circumstances, his natural curiosity could not be so easily pushed aside. Even after being dropped in the middle of the past, he was intrigued by the fact that this was the forefront of technology.

Sometimes, though he'd never admit it aloud, he was amazed by what his father, so limited by his time, had accomplished; Tony was only limited by his own mind.

As the pair meandered toward the recruitment office, Tony tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, worried his face was drawing more attention than was safe. Judging by all the concerned looks he was getting, it wasn't going well.

"Howard Stark is having his demonstration here tonight, isn't he?" he asked Erskine.

The man nodded, "Yes, across the way there in the pavilion."

Tony glanced in the direction of the growing crowd, "Right. Well, I'll see you in a bit."

Erskine looked like he desperately wanted to ask a question, but Tony interrupted him with a friendly clap on the shoulder, "The less questions you ask, doc..."

Sighing disappointedly, Erskine nodded and wished Tony the best of luck.

Tugging his hat down further in an attempt to obscure his battered features, Tony hurried to join the crowd gathered before the stage. Dark eyes scanned for any small blond man not wearing a uniform. He vividly remembered Steve telling him about the embarrassing and simultaneously life-altering night in minute detail – the awkward double date with Bucky, seeing Howard for the first time, finding an inner resolution…

Steve was here somewhere, in the open… a sitting duck.

The crowd began to cheer, drawing his attention to the stage where pretty girls danced around a slick looking car. Tony was unable to help the snicker that passed his split lips. He was able to tell from where he was that the propulsion system was flawed. He realized it was probably the forerunner of his suit's technology, but still.

He was distracted when he caught a flash of black coat from the corner of his eye. Turning slowly, trying to appear casual, spotting a very suspicious looking man skulking around the edges of the crowd.

"Well, that's super incognito," Tony observed, moving outwards to get a better look at the unknown man. His fedora was pulled down, hiding half his face. Cursing quietly, Tony tried to maneuver closer to the man. On the stage he could hear Howard joking with the crowd; his car had failed. Shocker.

The odd man was moving along the periphery of the crowd, pausing to reach into his coat. Hurrying now, Tony started pushing past people only to be tripped up by something. The something was a person.

"Sorry," he mumbled, reaching out on instinct to steady the slight figure, eyes never leaving the worrisome man.

"No problem, happens all the time," the voice caught Tony instantly, freezing him. It was achingly familiar. His heart beat painfully in recognition and he knew his arc reactor was brightening under the layers of clothing.

Slowly Tony looked down into the large blue eyes, too big for the pale, angular face. Small and frail, Steve was sporting a black eye, but he was the most beautiful thing Tony had ever seen.

Dark brown eyes met blue and the world seemed to fall away, the crowd around them a distant roar. It was an odd sort of feeling of fate that swept through the man from the future as he stood there, hands gently clasping the shoulders of the future Captain America.

Steve didn't move a muscle. Used to being nearly bowled over, this was nothing new for him. This man, though… despite the fact he looked like he'd seen better days, he intrigued him. He was wiry, with dark hair and eyes. Though his face was badly swollen, Steve got the impression he was handsome, self-confident. He also couldn't help noting that he looked rather dashing in his uniform.

Tony blinked, coming back to himself. Glancing quickly to his initial target, he spotted the man waiting for the crowd to disperse. He needed to get Steve out of the line of fire now.

Turning them so he was between the small man and the assassin, Tony tried to grin charmingly. "I'm, umm… Tony Sta- Starling," he introduced himself as he removed his hands from the thin shoulders and held out a callused palm.

"Steve Rogers," the shorter man said as long, delicate fingers shook the proffered hand.

"So are you enjoying the show?" Tony asked as he absently glanced behind him. The man was still there, and looking frustrated; Tony was blocking his intended target.

"It's neat. That Howard Stark is something, isn't he?" Steve asked conversationally.

The man who had introduced himself as Tony Starling snorted, not deigning to comment.

"So what division are you with?" the small blond asked eagerly.

Tony blinked at him in confusion. "Division?" he asked blankly.

"Yes, you're army, right?"

Tony glanced down; he'd almost forgotten he was a soldier now. "I'm, ummm… special division," he hedged. After all, it was the truth.

Steve looked duly impressed, "Neat."

Tony was moving them now, guiding them through the crowd towards the enlistment office. "So you thinking about enlisting?" he asked the small blond.

Steve snorted. "I've already tried… five times."

That was new. "Five times?" Tony echoed.

Sighing, Steve jammed his hands into his coat pockets, "Five rejections."

The dark haired man looked at him for a long moment and Steve could have sworn a look of fondness crossed his features. "Always a soldier," Tony finally muttered.

"Sorry?" Steve asked, not understanding.

"Nothing," Tony said as he paused outside the busy office, watching young men filing in and out. "Think maybe lucky number six?" He gestured with his chin towards the entrance.

The blond glanced at him through thick lashes, "You think?"

Tony grinned. Never in a million years had he thought he'd be in this position, "What harm could it do?"

Steve flashed a smile at him then, one of those thousand watt smiles Tony remembered so well; it was a look he had come to zealously crave. When Steve smiled at him like that, he could take on the world, or an assassin who was still following them.

"Go ahead, I'll see you in there," Tony gave him a push towards the building before turning to zero in on the assassin.

Steve watched the mysterious man vanish curiously, wondering at the odd encounter. There had been something about that Tony Starling.

"There you are. Are you really going to try this again, Steve?" The fondly exasperated voice of his friend Bucky cut through his musings. Bolstered by the strange meeting, Steve rounded on his best friend; he wasn't going to give up so easily.

-#-#-#-

For the first time Tony was thankful for all the times he'd been shamed into training with Clint.

Cap had insisted he learn how to handle himself outside his suit; of course Tony had been mildly insulted by the insinuation he was a weakling. Tony was no slouch, but because he tended to hang out with the world's greatest superheroes, he'd had his ass handed to him multiple times. He had learned some useful things, though.

Weaving and dodging, Tony managed to get the drop on the black-coated man. He moved fast and grabbed him in the meaty part of his arm, squeezing harshly; he was rewarded with a gasp of pain.

"We're going to have a chat, you and I," Tony hissed as he led the man away with a forced smile plastered on his face. With no choice but to follow, the unknown assailant whimpered as the man in uniform steered him onto the street and directly into a dark alley.

Tony wasn't going to mess around. Releasing his arm, Tony planted his fist in the man's face, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone. The assassin gave a wail of pain and fell forward, only to have Tony stomp his ankle harshly. Clint said that move would incapacitate and hurt like a bitch; based on the way the man was blubbering and crying, it was apparently true.

Tipping his hat back, the man from the future squatted and tried to get a good look at the assassin in the dim light of the alley. It wasn't the asshat he'd followed into this time. Cursing, he reached forward and pulled the gun from his coat pocket, a vintage Luger… He paused thoughtfully – no, just a Luger; it wasn't vintage in this time.

Tony pressed the gun barrel to the sobbing man's temple. "What were your orders?" he asked very softly.

The man whimpered, closing his eyes as he swallowed thickly, "To- to kill the blond boy at the show," he spoke in a heavily accented voice.

The man was a Nazi; how very unsurprising.

"Who sent you?" he dug the gun barrel a little deeper.

"I don't know! We received our orders to kill the man for the Fuhrer!"

Tony's frown deepened, "How many more are there?"

The man was mum. When Tony pistol-whipped him, he cried "Four! There are four more." Pleading, the man rolled away as if to try and escape.

"Wait a minu-" Tony reached for him an instant too late; the man had already bitten down on his escape plan, a cyanide capsule. Cursing roundly, Tony watched him twitch and foam before exhaling his last in death.

"At least he was somewhat helpful," he sighed, patting down the dead man's pockets. He fished out a wallet containing what had to be fake identification, a whole sheaf of papers in some bizarre language, as well as a picture of Steve. Pocketing everything, Tony double-checked to make sure he had it all.

Tony tucked the Luger back in his pocket and scratched his head absently. "Four more," he muttered to himself. Standing, he brushed his uniform off and righted his hat before heading back towards the recruitment office. If there were four more out there, he was damn well going to be joined at the hip with Steve.

Hurrying in, Tony paused at the desk, "Where is Doctor Erskine?"

The woman smiled prettily at him, "In the back speaking to someone."

Tony nodded and moved towards the curtained area, pausing when he heard the calm voice of the older man, "So, you want to kill Nazis?"

Tony held his breath as he listened.

"I don't really want to kill anyone, sir… I just don't like bullies," Steve replied.

Tony bit his bleeding lip at the answer, shaking his head. Goddamn patriotic Spangles; he was perfect even before the serum.


	4. Stop Time

Author's Note: Next chapter! Thanks so much ravingbeauty she's been so good to get this cleaned up.

Man Out of Time

Part 4 - Stop Time

"There has to be something we can do. Maybe we can get Thor to return the tesseract and we can try to distill-" Bruce was cut off abruptly by the cold words from across the table.

"Are you insane, doctor? We will not risk another Loki incident," Fury said as he eyed the sometimes rage monster.

"We can't just leave him," Clint interjected, looking between the two for something, anything.

Steve let the conversation roll over him; they'd been arguing in circles for hours.

It had officially been one day since Tony had disappeared into the past and they were no closer to having any answers. The whole thing made his head pound and his chest ache.

As his thoughts wandered, looking for any possible solution, he idly doodled on the paper before him. As he sketched a familiar face began to take shape, though it was… wrong. The face was that of someone who had been badly beaten – bruised, nose broken, eyes blackened. Seemingly independent of his brain, his clever fingers moved the pencil to delicately shade in a half grin and dark hair. Perched atop the dark locks, tipped at a jaunty angle, was the hat of a dress uniform, circa 1943.

The pencil broke in his clenched hand as Steve stared uncomprehending at what he'd drawn.

"Cap?" Natasha was watching him from across the table; blue eyes looked back at her in terror. All was silent in his mind for a moment; then it was as if someone had set off a firework inside his head.

A memory suddenly vividly clear in his mind's eye.

_Someone nearly ran him down in the crowd at the Expo. Looking up, he'd gazed into a handsome, if somewhat battered, face._

"_You going to enlist?" the familiar voice rang distantly in his head._

_The man had led him to the recruiting office. "I'll see you soon…"_

Steve snapped forward in his chair, panting; he clutched his throbbing head as he moaned in pain.

"Steve, are you ok? What happened?" Bruce was at his side, checking his frantic pulse and dilated eyes worriedly.

"Christ, Cap. It looked like you were having a fit!" Clint hovered nearby with a worried expression on his face.

"I… I…" Steve frowned. The memory was already hazy and distant; he couldn't remember all of it, but the image of Tony Stark was very clear.

"Steve… did you just draw this?" Bruce stared at the pencil sketch as the blond nodded absently.

The doctor's eyes widened abruptly. "I never thought…" he muttered and he turned back to Steve. "Just now did something change? A memory?"

Steve frowned, "No, I don't think so."

Frowning, the scientist tried a different angle. "Steve, who is this?" he asked as he pointed to the sketch.

"Tony," Steve answered absently.

"Where did you first meet Tony?" Doctor Banner persisted.

Steve looked around at the familiar faces, "At the World's Expo in 1943."

-#-#-#-

Reveille blew at exactly 5 a.m., startling the slumbering man off his stool and onto the floor, where he lay blinking shock. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought he was in the army.

"Oh, right." Tony Stark felt hysterical laughter threaten to erupt, but he swallowed it down as he slowly stood, wincing as he stretched his sore back. Apparently it didn't matter if it was 2013 or 1943 – he still fell asleep at his workbench. Yawning as his spine cracked satisfyingly, he glanced around at the paper littered small space.

Things had moved quickly after Erskine met Steve. Having found all the recruits needed for Project Rebirth, they had moved everyone out that night, Tony included. He had packed up his armor and burned all the papers he didn't take with him. God only knew what kind of hell he'd raise if someone found his sketches for adapting the armor.

After they had been trucked out to the training camp in the dead of night, Steve and his fellow recruits had bunked in the barracks, while Erskine had given him the use of a nearby shed.

"Top of the line shack," Tony mumbled as he moved around the small space. Really, though, he couldn't complain; the cave in Afghanistan had been far worse.

Absently scratching at his arc reactor, Tony heard the clink of his dog tags against the metal. The sound made him freeze as the small tink resonated in his mind. Unable to run anymore, the reality of his situation finally collided with him full force, like a punch to the gut. Whimpering, his knees suddenly unable to hold him upright, Tony sunk back onto the stool and buried his head in his arms. His eyes and chest burned as he took gasping breaths. He had tried so hard to keep going, to not think.

A sob caught in his throat. He was in 1943… everything he knew, everyone he knew, his whole world didn't even exist yet. He was years from his time with no way home. He was stuck in the past.

The tears he had fought so hard were falling now, and Tony was unable to stop them. As his body shook and shuddered, he gave free reign to the agony of his heart and mind. Wrapping his arms around his chest as if trying to hold himself together, he gradually calmed. As he settled slowly, he sat up and wiped at his red-rimmed eyes.

A maudlin thought floated through his mind, _this is what Steve must feel like_. He took courage from the thought, though. If Steve could survive 2013, then he could survive 1943.

Sighing, Tony stared unseeing at the papers before him, filled with his chicken scratch. He'd passed out last night trying to decipher the papers he'd found on the assassin, so far to no avail.

The genius set his jaw. This was not the time to feel sorry for himself; he was here for a purpose. The world needed Captain America, both now and in the future. He could worry about the rest later.

Scrubbing at his face once more, Tony heard his stomach gurgle noisily and found he was unable to remember the last time he'd eaten. He shrugged on his green combat uniform over his shirt and buttoned it up, making sure his perpetual glow was hidden; the last thing he needed was someone asking questions he couldn't answer. Trying for some semblance of order, he ran a hand through his disheveled hair as he left his shed and headed across the compound to the mess hall, coffee at the forefront of his mind.

Halfway across the yard a familiar figure fell into step with him.

"Are you alright, son?" the soft German cadence was an oddly soothing balm to his frayed nerves.

"Yeah, just having a morning. I think I may have joined the army, doc," he teased lightly and the older man chuckled. The pair entered the mess and bypassed the tables to grab some coffee. When Tony eagerly took a swallow of the thick mess, Abraham grinned at the face he pulled.

"Takes some getting used to," the genius said after taking another sip. "It's fantastic, puts hair on your chest." Cups in hand, they meandered back outside and Tony grabbed an apple on the way.

"There are our boys," Tony said as he gestured to the line forming in early morning light.

Doctor Erskine curiously glanced sideways at his companion, at this man from the future who claimed to be the son of Howard Stark. It was a fantastic idea, one that had seized his imagination when he'd met the beaten, bloody, yet incredibly earnest man in that dank basement. Imagine the possibilities of moving through time… "How is your mission going?" he asked offhandedly.

Dark eyes glanced at the too smart man as his healing lips quirked in a small smile, "Its going, doc… So far, so good."

Abraham sipped his coffee. "I don't suppose you could tell me more? I could help you…" he trailed off, watching the slow shake of the man's head.

"Doc, have you read H.G. Wells' _The Time Machine_?"

Erskine smiled widely, "I am a great lover of H.G. Wells."

Tony chuckled; that was no surprise. "Me, too. The man was the most forward thinker of his time and his work continues to inspire in my time. Yet even in the future with technology so advanced, time travel… was impossible." He sipped his coffee pensively, "Perhaps that's not accurate. It's not impossible… but it's something that no one in their right mind would want to fool with."

Doctor Erskine hummed in agreement, "You speak of creating a paradox, one in which the smallest change in the past may have devastating consequences in the future."

Tony gave the doctor a pat on the shoulder, "Knew there was something I liked about you."

The older man shrugged, "I don't think a man should know too much about his own future."

The younger man smiled sadly, "It's a difficult thing, doc, to know what horrors lie ahead and be unable to change the course of history."

Erskine thought about that for a long moment before he spoke again. "It's a terrible responsibility that has been thrust upon you, Anthony Stark, but something tells me you are the only man for the job."

Tony felt a warm flush at his words; Doctor Erskine was a brilliant man and it was a privilege to know him. It also made him feel all the worse that he could do nothing to change the outcome at the end of the week.

"Ahhh, Agent Margret Carter. Shall we go observe?" the doctor asked.

They arrived in time to see Agent Carter deliver a mean right hook to a smarmy looking boy.

Tony grinned as he chewed his apple, eyes moving across the line to land on the skinny, adorable blond figure in the too large PT uniform. His heart flipped in his chest. Steve Rogers was completely out of place among the burly men around him, yet he held himself proudly, like he was already Captain America.

The small man was also making adoring eyes at the woman with red lips, who was so confidently walking the line. Tony felt an irrational stab of jealously.

Meanwhile, the smallest man in formation tried to hide his smile when the tough girl socked the bully three men down. As she started to speak, though, he was distracted as he caught sight of two familiar men. He recognized the kind doctor from the prior night and the man he'd run into in the crowd. He was dressed in combats today, looking rather unkempt and dangerous with his beaten face.

Steve shivered, swallowing thickly as his heart thrummed in his chest. He averted his eyes, trying to will away the blush that crawled up from his neck. He stared at the ground trying to get his rebellious mind under control, reminding himself yet again it was wrong – he shouldn't be admiring another man. Unable to help himself, he snuck another look at the dark haired man, almost choking when the man looked directly at Steve with dark eyes and winked.

Tony could see the blush cross his pale cheeks. He wanted to laugh aloud at the sight; some things never changed.

He would have been pleased to ogle the man all day, but Colonel Phillips was making his grand entrance just then. Tony was vaguely reminded of Fury by the gruff man's no nonsense demeanor as he huffed and puffed, sending them off soon after.

Tony watched Steve until he was gone, headed towards the obstacle courses.

"Doctor," the gruff Colonel joined them, eyeing Tony curiously.

"Colonel Phillips… This is Lieutenant Tony Starling, who I've been telling you about. He's the specialist I've brought on for the program."

Phillips gave him an appreciative look, "I've heard you could give Stark a run for his money."

Tony raised an eyebrow and gave him a mocking salute.

The older man frowned but held his peace, "Well, gentlemen, we have a week to pick the best man for the job."

As the pair watched him depart, Tony wondered aloud, "What did you tell him?"

"What he needed to hear," the doctor looked far too amused. "Speaking of which, it's time for a long overdue meeting."

-#-#-#-

"I'm still not getting this," Clint squinted at the large holo screen.

Doctor Banner looked from the mass of equations, graphs, and diagrams, to the very confused gray eyes of Hawkeye.

Natasha rubbed her temples, "I admit I'm lost here, too, doctor. There are a lot of big words being thrown around."

The fourth occupant of the room was sleeping soundly, head cradled in his arms; Captain America wasn't even pretending to try and understand.

"Ok, ok…" Banner scratched his head for a moment as he tried to reframe his explanation, "You know the movie _Back to the Future_?"

Clint perked up, "Yeah."

Nodding, the man cleared the screen. "So let's say Tony is Marty McFly."

Clint grinned, "Great movie."

Exasperated, Banner sighed. "Focus. Tony went back to make sure they don't kill the Cap. In doing so he has unintentionally already changed the past – like when McFly saved his father and helped him get back his mother. He ended up changing the past, thus influencing the future."

The assassin lit up, "Oh, I get it! He changed the past and his loser family became awesome!"

"Yes!" Banner nodded. "Exactly! Because Tony is changing the past, it is affecting Steve's memories. Only Steve doesn't know that because, to him, it's always been that way."

Sighing, Clint massaged his head, "Doc, this is a total mind fuck…"

-#-#-#-

"Tony Starling, meet Howard Stark."

It was the most bizarre, surreal moment of his entire existence. Tony Stark, pushing thirty-three, was shaking hands with his twenty- three-year-old father.

"Pleasure to meet you, I hear you're a fellow engineer."

Tony swallowed, managing a sort of grunt that might have been, "Yes."

The dashing young man grinned roguishly, "Great, I'd love to pick your brain about some of these new weapon designs I have."

Tony was having a hard time focusing on the energetic man. Was this really happening? When he'd been young and full of hope, he had dreamed of working in the lab with his dad one day.

"So, you think if we reattach the wires here I will get the needed-"

His chest hurt. Tony tried to pay attention – the man who had ignored him his whole life, only to die when he was young, was asking his opinion. Howard looked at him eagerly, waiting for his input. "I, ummm… I think that if you were to redesign the outer casing…" Tony said as he moved to look over the blue prints.

Erskine smiled softly as he watched. He could see the similarities between the two men. Both were dark in colouring, but so different. Tony must take after his mother, but he could still see that thirst for creation they both shared.

The doctor left them then, chuckling quietly to himself.


	5. Time and Time Again

Author's Note: I love this chapter that final scene just kills me. Thanks so much ravingbeauty for getting it all to look so good. Enjoy the new undated beta version.

Man Out of Time

Part 5 – Time and Time Again

It was the best day Tony had ever spent with his father.

They tinkered, sketched, and argued good-naturedly until the shadows grew long and the bugle announced dinner. Surprised, the dark haired man glanced to the window; he needed to get back to Steve. "Well, thanks for the fun, da- daddio," he finished lamely.

Howard regarded him with a curious expression, "The doc mentioned you were on a top secret mission of your own."

Tony nodded slowly, hoping he wasn't going to ask more.

"You're an unusual man, Starling – one of many secrets, I think."

Tony wanted to laugh aloud; he had no idea.

"Come back any time," Howard offered.

Pleased, Tony found himself nodding and gave the younger man a wave, "Thanks."

Tony headed out into the twilight towards the mess. Suddenly angry with himself, he quickened his pace as he went. Steve was still vulnerable and where had he been all day? Messing around in the lab with his dad.

"You're not here to sightsee, Stark," Tony mumbled as he hurried into the brightly lit, noisy building. The place was packed. His brown eyes scanned the benches, his worry quickly subsiding as he spotted a lonely figure in the corner by himself. Feeling marginally better, Tony hurried to grab something that may or may not be food. Tray in hand, he navigated toward the small hunched figure.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked, doing so anyway.

Surprised, Steve looked up to meet the dark, smiling eyes; it was the man from the Expo again. "N-no," he sputtered, fighting the blush.

"So, how was the first day?'" Tony asked conversationally as he spooned some of the slop on the tray into his mouth. Frowning, he looked down. "This is what now?" he muttered.

Steve snorted a laugh, "I think it's Salisbury steak."

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Tony poked at his meal, satisfied when Steve chuckled again. "You still haven't answered," he reminded him gently.

The smaller man gave him a sad look, "I don't think it went all that well."

The man from the future wanted to pull him into his arms, hug him, and promise everything would be ok. Instead he settled for a reassuring smile, "It'll get better. Keep your chin up."

The blond gave him a grateful smile, "So what are you doing here? I thought you were a recruiter."

Tony pulled a charming smile, "I work with the doc and do a little freelance on the side."

Steve was blushing again. He couldn't help it; the man was so outgoing and confident… and Steve noticed he was getting more and more handsome as his face healed.

"So, tell me about yourself, Steve."

Blinking in surprise, the younger man stared at him, nonplussed; that grin did all sorts of strange things to his insides. Without thinking, he began to speak, unsure why the words came so easily. Perhaps it was just because he was feeling lonely or he'd had such a bad day. Or, more truthfully, because he was so taken with the man.

Tony couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips when Steve spoke, telling him of losing his father during the Great War and his mother to TB. As he spoke Tony began to see double, the small, frail Steve overlaying with the man he knew from his time. He recalled long nights spent in his lab, Steve speaking softly as he drew.

The pang of homesickness caught him by surprise, knocking the breath from him; he missed those intimate moments.

Tony shook his head, struggling to return to the here and now. The hall was clearing as each unit returned to their bunks for the night.

Standing, the pair returned the metal trays and stepped into the mild night. Tony inhaled deeply. Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but it did seem like the air was clearer here, crisper.

Steve repeatedly snuck glances at the man. "So, what unit are you bunking with?" he blurted out, flushing furiously at his brazen outburst. What was he thinking, asking such a thing?

Tony blinked, a slow easy smile spreading across his face. "Not with any unit, in the shed over there," he said as he gestured to the small building nearby.

Steve blinked, "In a shed?" He tried not to laugh.

Tony grinned, "Yeah, you're welcome to visit any time."

Steve gave him a shy smile, "I will… See you tomorrow?"

Tony gave him a small salute, "Will do."

He watched the small figure disappear up the stairs and into his quarters. Alone now in the dark, he felt the guilt set in. "What the hell are you doing, Tony?" he asked himself angrily. Frustrated, he turned and stormed back to his makeshift lair.

"Stupid, stupid…" he mumbled as he slumped over his papers once more. He tried to push aside the memory of that shy smile and the blush.

"He's supposed to like Peggy, be with her. It's not you, Stark. It's not meant to be you…" His heart hurt at the words, aching in sadness. Idly he rubbed at the metal plate in his chest as if it would stop the pain. Tony leaned his head on one arm, suddenly tired beyond belief. "I can't do this. There's no way I'm going to be able to get through this," he sighed.

Feeling defeated and despondent, Tony idly turned his eyes to the papers he'd taken from the man in the ally, blinking when something turned over in his mind. Shocked, he sat straight up.

"No way," he mumbled as he pulled the jumbled mess closer. A slow smile spread across his face as he looked at the paper closely under the light.

"Well, fuck me sideways."

-#-#-#-

It was painful to watch him run.

Tony winced with every wheeze Steve took; he sounded like he might keel over at any moment. He bit his lip to keep from saying anything and instead focused on his own breathing as he easily kept pace with the smaller man in the early morning air.

The drill sergeant had given up harassing Steve long ago as a lost cause. Or it might have been because Tony's glares were rather off putting. Either way, the guy was a tool.

Tony had been up and invigorated this morning, hopeful for the first time since falling into 1943.

He'd cracked the code, a rather ingenious one. The seemingly random lettering had actually been very old, barely known and rarely used computer code. He felt like a moron for not seeing it earlier. Still, Tony had to hand it to the guy; no one would be able to crack it in this time unless they were from the 21st century.

What had been terrifying, though, was the content of the papers. It chronicled Steve's movements from the Expo up until his assault on the Hydra factory. Whoever it was had certainly done their homework.

It also let Tony know there was a deadline; Steve was to be dead before the first assault on Hydra, the birth of Captain America as a hero.

So here Tony was at the ass crack of dawn, running under full pack, barely able to restrain himself from punching Drill Sergeant Clarkson in the face, while Steve panted gamely on. They were some distance behind the others. The five foot nothing, ninety-pound asthmatic probably weighed less than the equipment he was hauling.

For Tony, who was used to running with Captain America nearly every morning, it was painful to watch pre-serum Steve. The pack on his own back weighed less than his older suit, and with the pace barely above a brisk walk, Tony had yet to break a sweat.

He was very seriously contemplating carrying Steve the rest of the way.

Ahead of them the others were leaping over one another to try and climb a flagpole because Clarkson had promised a jeep ride back to camp to the man who brought him the flag. Tony sighed and shook his head; the laws of physics made the task impossible.

Realizing the futility of the task, the others were reforming just as they caught up to the group. Without a word Steve strode up to the pole, ignoring the douche Clarkson. He easily pulled the pins and let the pole fall to the ground. Tony blinked in surprise and a slow smile crossed his face as Steve handed over the flag and hopped into the jeep beside Peggy, who gave him a rather appreciative look.

The others watched in stunned silence as the vehicle trundled away. Tony sure Clarkson was going to have a coronary. The hilarity of the whole situation was too much for him, and the genius doubled over, hooting with laughter. Tugging the straps on his pack tighter, he sauntered over to the drill sergeant. "Owned," he muttered, gratified to see the angry confusion.

Still chuckling, Tony began to run; he'd had enough of this and Steve was headed back to camp victorious.

Tony was the first to arrive back at camp, the others still some distance behind. The man out of time was secretly pleased they had been unable to keep up with his brutal pace. Panting and sweat soaked, he doubled over and rested his hands on his knees. He may have been showing off a bit.

"Tony, you ok?" size six boots appeared in his line of vision.

Grinning he straightened, "Just getting too old, I think."

Steve gave him a once over from under his helmet; he didn't think Tony looked old at all. "Sorry for leaving you back there, even after you ran with me."

The older man waved it off, "I'd have done the same. That was pretty impressive."

The small man blushed faintly, "You beat them all back."

Laughing, Tony clapped him on the back, "Flattery will get you everywhere."

-#-#-#-

The flag ended up being the high point of Steve's day; the rest of it was just one depressing humiliation after another.

The other cadets were not overly fond of the slight man and did everything they could to push him around. By the end of the day, Tony was ready to put on his Iron Man suit and scare the ever-living hell out of the bastards. It was by sheer will power that he refrained; it would not go over well to have a million dollar suit of armor show up and kick some ass.

By the time dinner rolled around Tony was in no mood to be around people. Making sure Steve was safe in the crowded dinning hall, he retreated to his tiny shack, grumbling and muttering as he banged away on his modified armor.

Fixing the suit was a gradual process; the pull through time had drained the power and done a number on the mechanics. He was trying to fix and reformat the whole thing, but he was going to have limited use of it for sure. Tony was going to have to save it for just the right time, and he had a feeling he knew when that was going to be. With no JARVIS or 'bots to help, it was going to have to be all him – just like Afghanistan.

Working the metal he hummed to himself, beginning to feel better. It was good to have something to do; it kept him from thinking too much. He had a path and objectives to meet. "Starting to sound like Spangles," he grunted.

When he heard a soft knock, Tony froze and glanced towards the wooden door. "Just a sec," he called as he tugged his over shirt on and quickly buttoned it. "That you, Doc?" he asked as he opened the door, surprised to find Steve on the other side.

"Not the Doc, sorry…" he looked at Tony and bashfully held out a sandwich. "I noticed you weren't at dinner."

Tony blinked, opening his mouth and closing it; the gesture made his throat close up.

He stepped aside, allowing Steve to enter the overly crowded space. "Sorry, there's not much room," he apologized as he accepted the food. Holding the sandwich gently, he stared down at it. How many times had Steve brought him food in the lab at home? Sat with him as he ate? "Thanks, it means a lot," he said softly.

Steve glanced around in wonderment, "This is amazing, Tony."

Smothering a laugh Tony refrained from answering, "Just you wait seventy years or so."

The blond sat carefully on a stool, wincing.

"Rough day?" Tony teased; blue eyes shot him a sour look. "I think you impressed a certain dark eyed, dark haired lady," he winked at the smaller man.

Steve looked surprised, "You think?"

Chuckling, Tony sat beside him, "Definitely. She was giving you the eye." The younger man shrugged and Tony cocked his head, "You don't seem all that enthused."

Steve glanced at the handsome man out of the corner of his eye, watching the grease stained fingers as he ate, the strong forearms streaked with dirt from his work. Something hot flashed through Steve. Everything told him it was wrong to admire men, to want a man like that. But he couldn't help it. Proximity to Tony made his palms sweat and his heart race. And more than that, the dark haired man didn't ignore him, didn't make fun of him.

Steve cleared his throat and glanced away. "I, umm… That's nice, I guess," he said, scratching the back of his head. He liked Peggy a lot; she was kind and strong, but she didn't make him hot like Tony did.

Arching a dark brow Tony wondered at the cool response, but decided to let it go.

They talked about nothing in particular. "Have you seen _The Wizard of Oz? _It's keen," Steve was saying enthusiastically while Tony finished eating and went back to work.

"Yeah, I have seen it," Tony grinned.

He listened with a half smile as Steve talked about this and that – excitement at finally being accepted into the army, sadness that he wasn't doing well, disappointment that they wouldn't choose him for the program. Tony had to bite his tongue repeatedly; it was incredibly difficult not to tell the man of all the amazing things he would do. He would singlehandedly take down Hydra, battle a demi-god, and save one lonely genius billionaire playboy philanthropist in the future.

"Well, I guess I should get some shuteye," Steve mumbled, yawning.

Tony wiped his hands on his pants, "I'll walk you back over."

The small man blushed but said nothing as they walked slowly across the compound. "So I'll see you in the morning?"

Smiling, Tony nodded, "0500." There was an awkward tension as they stared at one another. "Goodnight, Steve," he said softly.

Swallowing thickly, the other replied, "Goodnight, Tony."

He disappeared inside then and the man from another time grinned and shook his head, returning to his work.

-#-#-#-

The rest of that week followed a similar pattern.

Tony would train all day with Steve, and at night the small man would come sit with him while he worked, whether he was talking or just being nearby. Tony was ever vigilant for another attack, though so far the heavily guarded base was proving to be excellent protection.

The inventor felt more confident everyday that Steve was going to become Captain America – up until the final day of training.

Coffee in hand, Tony ambled across the compound, trying not to watch Steve do his jumping jacks. It was decision day; tomorrow they would test the super soldier serum on one lucky soul.

Tony spotted the Doc and Phillips talking by one of the trucks and headed over to join them as Peggy put the men through their paces nearby. Halfway there his steps faltered; he watched in stunned slow motion as Phillips picked up a grenade, pulled the pin, and threw it amongst the men. Everyone scattered… everyone save one man. Without hesitating, Steve threw himself atop the munitions, yelling for the others to stay back.

Tony made a noise between a whimper and yell, forcing his legs to move. He'd made it a grand total of three steps when Erskine smiled and Phillips grunted in disgust. His own mind echoed Steve's confusion; it was a dummy grenade. All the strength in his legs left him as he slid to the ground trembling.

"Oh, Christ…" he mumbled, closing his eyes, clutching his chest, trying to get his erratic heartbeat under control. "Threw himself on top of a grenade… Jesus wept…" He felt a hand on his back; the Doc was squatting next to him.

"I see by your reaction I have perhaps made the correct choice in the matter," he grinned, giving the dark haired man a pat before departing.

Tony shook his head.

He was going to kill Steve himself.

He could not believe he would do something so foolish, so heroic.

That wasn't quite true, though – Steve was always heroic. Apparently it had nothing to do with the serum. The man was so utterly perfect it was sickeningly enviable.

Now anger was beginning to replace the shock and fear. Damn the blond for being so willing sacrifice himself when so many people would rely on him… like Tony.

Realizing he was still on his knees, the man from the future stood and slowly collected himself. He had a mission to accomplish, and damned if he wasn't going to make sure Captain America made it through this – whether he liked it or not.


	6. One Last Time

Author's Note: Warning some MAN on MAN loving it is after all a romance enjoy! Big shout out to ravingbeauty for once more coming through and making it all look so good.

Man Out of Time

Part 6 – One Last Time

Tony spent the rest of the day seething.

The doc, having made his decision, worked to prepare Steve for the upcoming procedure, while those who didn't make the cut were dismissed. As night fell, an odd heavy mood fell over the camp – a strange mix of excitement, eagerness, and fear.

Tony banged around in his small workshop, muttering to himself the entire time, still righteously angry over the morning's events. How many times had Steve lectured him about being reckless? The hypocritical, star-spangled jerk face.

He'd been working himself into a fine snit, deciding he'd be damned if he let the man get away with it. The shoe was on the other foot now, and he was going over there to give Cap a taste of his own medicine.

Tossing aside his helmet, Tony marched out of the door and headed directly for the bunkhouse. A single light from the dark barracks confirmed Steve was indeed inside. Still grumbling and muttering, he was almost to the building when movement caught his eye. Immediately on alert, he crouched as Natasha's advice from training floated through his mind – use the shadows and dark to your advantage.

Pressed against the wall of the building, he could hear muffled voices inside; he hazarded a guess that one was Steve the other probably the doc. Peaking around the corner he spotted the assailant on his tiptoes against the glass of the window, gun in hand. Like the assassin at the Expo, he was dressed in black.

Tony wasted no time; moving quicker than he believed possible, he looped an arm around the man's neck, squeezing tightly. Giving a strangled yelp of surprise, the would-be assassin dropped his weapon immediately and scrabbled at the arm choking off his airway. Face grim, the man from the future began to drag the struggling figure towards a dark storage building.

Fighting for his life the assassin twisted and writhed, trying to escape the tight hold. Tony grunted with effort and managed to dump them just inside the doorway before the other man broke away. Gasping, he lashed out and clipped Tony on the jaw. Neither wanted to alert the base to what was happening, so the struggle that ensued was short, brutal, and relatively silent. They grappled in the dark for long moments until Tony finally managed to get the upper hand.

Panting, Tony pinned the assassin. "Who sent you?" he hissed in the man's face, bloodied and bruised.

Lips pressed tightly together, the assassin glared hatefully up at him. "You will not stop this," he sneered.

Tony bore down, his knee pressing brutally into the other man's chest. "What am I not going to stop?" he gritted out, but the assassin was struggling again, twisting his head this way and that before… Tony swore and hurriedly grabbed his jaw, but it was too late; the now-familiar white foam was already bubbling from his mouth. The battered form convulsed beneath him before stilling completely.

Cursing a blue streak, Tony rolled off the corpse, tired, and bruised. "Worst assassins ever. As soon as things go badly…" he sighed as he rooted through the dead man's pockets, locating familiar papers and the same photo.

Grumbling, Tony hurried back to the bunkhouse to stash the gun before returning to heft the man over one shoulder. Burden in tow, he dashed across the dark compound towards the woods. He felt like some sort of criminal, but he couldn't risk the questions a dead body would raise. He dumped the body just inside the tree line, hoping it wouldn't be discovered for a while.

Task completed, he suddenly felt beyond tired. Slowly, feet dragging, Tony returned to his shed.

-#-#-#-

In the bunkhouse, oblivious to the struggle outside, Steve was wishing Doctor Erskine a good night. The older man had not been as comforting about tomorrow as he had hoped. People had high hopes for Project Rebirth and even higher hopes for Steve.

This was to win them the war.

Yet there were no guarantees for him. He could easily die during the procedure, and that more than anything weighed heavily on his mind and heart. There was so much he had wanted to do and see…

Steve was not afraid of his own morality. If his country needed his death, so be it; he would give everything he had.

Tonight though, he wanted to be selfish for once. There was no promise of tomorrow, and he didn't want any regrets. Mind made up, he hopped off his cot with one destination in mind.

-#-#-#-

Exhausted, Tony closed the door to his shed and stumbled across the tiny room to collapse against the workbench. Even with the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, he winced as he touched the bruise on his jaw. Just when his face had been healing up…

A soft knock dragged him from his thoughts. "Tony?" a familiar voice called.

The dark haired man turned towards the door surprised, he had completely forgotten he'd been on his way to give the small skinny blond a serious tongue-lashing. The righteous anger had gone right out of him now. "Steve," he sighed, running a hand through already disheveled hair. "Shouldn't you be resting? Big day tomorrow."

The small man walked towards him, looking pale and wan in dim light from the single lamp.

"It is a big day tomorrow," he murmured, standing before Tony uncertainly. "They aren't sure what will happen," he continued softly as blue eyes locked with dark brown.

"I think you'll be fine," Tony encouraged, but he could see the worry, uncertainty, and fear. It pulled at his heart. He wanted to tell him that tomorrow would be the start of something amazing; Steve was going to change everything.

He couldn't, though. So bit his lip, swallowing down the words.

"What if I'm not?" Steve took a step closer to the man sitting on a stool, "It makes me wonder."

Tony cocked his head, "Wonder wh-" His words were cut off by hot, somewhat chapped lips descending on his own. Surprise and shock battled in his addled brain as Steve Rogers kissed the breath right out of him. It was over quickly and the smaller man pulled away, looking just as surprised as Tony felt.

"I'm sorry… I just… I'm…" he stuttered, backing away, terrified.

Tony blinked as his mind screamed at him to stop this, to put some distance between them. This wasn't supposed to happen.

His heart, though, was telling him he needed this, needed Steve so much it hurt. His battered, mechanical heart won out, and without a word Tony was reaching out, pulling the other man close, lips descending harshly. Easily controlling the inexperienced kiss, he forced the smaller man's mouth open and settled his hands on the slender waist, tugging Steve to stand between his legs as he sat on the stool.

Steve's mind was spinning; Tony was kissing him back. Eagerly he wrapped his thin arms around Tony's neck and sank into the embrace, moaning faintly. They kissed for long moments before parting, panting for breath.

Tony rested his forehead against the blonds', feeling guilty as hell.

Steve grinned at him dreamily, lips kiss swollen, "I've wanted to do that for a while," he confessed.

Tony tightened his hands on those hips, unable to let go. "Me, too," he murmured, a wealth of meaning in the words.

Then Steve was kissing him again, eagerly pressing into Tony, hard and throbbing. "Tony," he pleaded softly against smooth lips. The older man moaned as his resolve to go no further crumbled to dust. Standing, he lifted the shorter man to sit on the side of the table as Steve wrapped his legs around him instinctively.

Tony finally gave into his selfish wants. He was desperately alone and lost in this time… And here was Steve – willing, gorgeous, and all things good. He tugged the small man closer, grinding their clothed erections together, swallowing the moans of pleasure from sweet lips.

"Tony!" Steve gasped, arching into him, craving the delicious friction.

Steve's experience when it came to women was little; when it came to men, he had none at all. Terrified to explore his feelings, he had tried to bury them away. Tonight, though, Steve had never been happier he'd taken a chance.

Their movements turned frantic; panting and gasping they rocked together. Tony trailed hot, wet kisses from Steve's lips down to his slim pale neck; biting gently, Tony was pleased to hear the gasp of pleasure as he marked the man as his.

In the darkness of the shed two souls found solace in each other's arms.

Steve found his release first; overwhelmed, he cried out, the front of his army issue boxers soaking through. Shuddering the dark haired man squeezed him tight, finding his own release. In the moments afterward they kissed and touched softly, unable and unwilling to let go.

As they finally parted a callused hand gently brushed back now-sweaty blond hair as Tony offered him a comforting smile. Guilt gnawed at him; he felt like he'd taken advantage. Steve was confused, scared, and like some animal he had used him.

"I'm sorry, Tony," the small man whispered as a dark blush covered his high cheekbones.

Dark eyes blinked in surprise, "Why would you be sorry?"

The blond shifted, mumbling something.

"Didn't catch that darlin', want to try again?"

Steve looked away, "It's not right, I know. It's unnatural…"

Tony's eyes widened.

"The doc says the serum will cure me of all my ailments. Perhaps it will cure me of this one, too."

Tony said nothing for long moments, processing what Steve was saying. First, he was admitting to liking men. Second, he believed it to be a disease. Tony wanted to punch narrow-minded 1940s culture in the face, as irrational as it was.

He took Steve's hands in his. "Steve," he said, pausing he searched for the right words, "Liking people of the same gender is not a disease." He reached out to gently cup one cheek, "It's just the way you are and there is nothing wrong with it. Friendship, companionship, love… are hard to find in anyone. When you do, no matter their gender, you need to hold onto them."

The small man looked at him in astonishment and Tony felt his own cheeks heat up in response; only Steve managed to bring out his sappy side. A slow smile crossed Steve's face and the blond pressed close again. As they kissed and caressed a while longer, Tony eventually called a halt, "Come on, beautiful, you need your rest. It's a big day tomorrow."

The dark haired man walked him back to the empty bunkhouse and Steve paused on the stair, "Tony, I… in case something happens tomorrow, thank you for tonight. The things you said and… and I really like you."

Anthony Stark stared into those earnest blue eyes and fell head over heels for this man all over again. Maybe it was fate or destiny, or perhaps just acceptance of the inevitable, "Steve, I really like you, too."

-#-#-#-

Tony had had some awful days in his life –his parents dying, being hooked up to that godforsaken car battery, Obadiah betraying him, slowly dying of poisoning, Captain America telling him he was no hero... And now he would have to add today to his growing list of terrible days.

He sat hunched over, feeling older than he ever had, the weight of his decisions settling heavily on his shoulders. Across the room from him sitting on the hospital gurney, larger than life and beautiful, was Steve – no, Captain America. The doctors fussed around him, poking and prodding, drawing blood.

Despite the horrible turn the day had taken, everyone was in slack jawed amazement at transformation of the once malnourished blond, who was now perfect in every way possible.

It was all still a blur.

Dawn had found Tony once more packed and ready to move out. He'd gone ahead with his father, Howard, to prepare the machine for the big transformation. Tony hadn't really done anything, though. He just watched and held tools, careful to make sure he wasn't going to change anything.

Steve had run some final tests with the doc before arriving, Peggy in tow.

Before the procedure he'd looked so small and frail getting into the machine. Even scared to death, he'd still gotten in the contraption. Tony had a moment of levity when he saw the small, almost unnoticeable love bite at the base of his neck.

Tony knew how events were about to transpire – the result of the serum, the outcome of the project, and horrible moment that followed. Tony had thought he was ready, only to realize he had not been prepared in the least.

_Tony wanted to shut down the machine. He could hear the labored breathing, the yelp of pain. He knew it would work. His mind knew it, at least, but his heart was breaking for the man in the middle of this experiment. _

"_Mr. Stark, turn off the machine." The doc looked as terrified as Tony felt. _

_Howard was reaching for the controls when Steve called out, voice small from within the confines of the machine, "No, don't! I can do this!" Tony stood clenching his fists, biting his lip until it bled, listening as Steve yelled again and the light grew brighter still. _

_All at once it was over, and tall, muscular Steve Rogers was stepping out of the machine. Peggy practically drooled all over him, while Tony had grumbled about that a bit. _

_The suits were gathering to marvel at the success. Tony scanned the faces of the crowed, wanting more than anything to stop what was about to happen. Instead he watched helplessly as a man pulled out a gun and took aim at Doctor Erskine. _

_He observed the chaos that followed like it was some movie, an outsider to the events. _

_As Steve and the others took off after the assassin, Tony knelt beside the dying Doctor Abraham Erskine and gently took his bloodied hand. _

"_I'm so sorry," Tony whispered to the dying man and looked steadily into his eyes. "It had to be this way." _

_Erskine wheezed, gasping, managing a hopeful, painful look. "He's going to do great things, isn't he?" _

_Tony nodded slowly, eyes burning, "He's going to save the world." _

_Grey eyes misted over as a soft, satisfied smile graced the doctor's features._

"Tony?" There was a large, warm hand on his, bringing him back to the here and now.

Blinking, Tony stared at the broad chest before him, straining against the material of the plain white shirt. They were alone for the moment in the hospital room and that hand moved to cup his cheek gently, wiping away a tear Tony had no idea he'd shed.

"It's been a tough day," Steve said tenderly, comfortingly.

"Yeah," Tony looked into the endless blue eyes. This man was heartbreakingly similar to the Captain America of his time. It made him so acutely homesick he wanted to lash out, do something, anything to make the hurt stop.

"How are you feeling?" Tony asked Steve, not wanting the moment to end.

"I feel wonderful," he answered as he flexed rippling arms.

"Are you cured?" Tony teased half-heartedly, wanting nothing more than to feel those big arms around him. Cautious eyes glanced to the door before warm lips were on his, kissing him sweetly. Dazed, Tony grinned, "I guess so."

Chuckling, Steve retreated a respectable distance in case someone came in.

"Colonel Phillips doesn't want me," Steve finally said. "He says I'm a science experiment gone wrong." Tony wanted to deck the Colonel when Steve ran an agitated hand though blond hair. "The Senator says I can help, though," he frowned and looked at Tony, unconsciously reaching out to take a callused hand in his.

The dark haired man patted the big hand, unsure of what to say.

"I want to help anyway I can," Steve muttered, looking both unsure and frustrated.

Tony simply waited, silent and supportive. The two men, bound by more than their shared experiences, sat side by side on the gurney in the small hospital room. Tony mentally tried to prepare himself…

Everything was about to change.


	7. Time and Place

Author's Note: Warning MAN MAN SMUT COMING ENJOY! Many thanks to ravingbeauty for getting this bad boy beta so it looks oh so good.

Man Out of Time

Part 7 – Time and Place

Steve woke with a snort, images vivid in his mind.

Mostly his memories from boot camp were somewhat hazy and misty, all but forgotten. The memory of an awkward, yet incredibly beautiful, encounter with a man named Tony Starling, however, was seared into his mind, as clear as day.

Steve moaned and clutched at his head.

"Cap, are you ok?" Bruce laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The last twenty-four hours had been hell for all, but for none so much as Steve. The soldier seemed to be in a perpetual daze or stupor. He'd sit and stare off into space for long periods of time, only to fall asleep at the drop of a hat.

"Yeah, s'ok…" he mumbled, blue eyes distant.

"Feel like eating something?" Bruce urged. Steve nodded and shuffled with the others towards the base cafeteria.

Captain America took in his surroundings with detached interest. How could the world keep spinning when his was spiraling out of control? Steve had no idea what was happening to him. His head felt full of cotton as he sat eating mechanically, going though the motions.

The others were worried. The normally alert man didn't even notice as Clint, Natasha, and Bruce all watched him carefully as he ate. Then without warning, Steve slumped forward to rest on the large table.

"Why does he keep doing that? Nodding off?" Clint asked, looking to the scientist for answers.

"My guess would be that it's a defense mechanism, a way for his mind to adjust to what is happening."

The Black Widow frowned, "What do you mean?"

"Tony is changing the past, whether he wants to or not, and in the process is influencing Steve's memories. My guess is it's messing with his head," the doctor sighed. Then Bruce paused a moment as a thought occurred to him, "Steve?" He prodded the sleeping man, gently rousing him, "Steve, can you hear me?"

Sleepy blue eyes opened and blinked at him solemnly.

"Steve, what is the last memory you have of Tony?"

Frowning, Steve looked away as if calling up the memories. "USO shows," he mumbled before his head seemed to weigh him down once more.

Bruce pulled back as if burned.

"What?" Clint asked looking between the two.

"The timelines aren't synced," he looked at them wide-eyed as a small spark of hope blossomed in his chest.

"Not understanding again, Doc," the archer muttered, not a fan of being left in the dark.

"Tony in the past is moving forward in time faster than we are. Only hours ago he was at the Expo and now he's at Steve's USO shows." He grinned at them, "It gives us hope."

-#-#-#-

Tony tried not to hum along, he really did, but damn if the song wasn't catchy. It was almost constantly stuck in his head these days. He'd spent the last several months traveling the country with Steve Rogers as Captain America sold bonds, lifted pretty girls, knocked out Hitler, and even starred in a movie or two.

There had been another attempt on the Cap's life while they had been in New York doing a show. The guy must have flunked out of assassin school, though, because Tony had done no more than yell at him when he'd prematurely bitten into his cyanide capsule and gone down. Disgusted, the inventor had taken the papers off the body and left him the alley.

All the while Captain America waved and smiled and signed autographs for the crowd.

Running a hand through longer brown locks, Tony wrinkled his nose. His hair had taken on a distinct 1940s look, a sign he was beginning to assimilate. In the back of his mind, Tony knew he was reluctantly beginning to accept he might never make it back to his own time. Still, he stubbornly refused to give up completely.

As Steve wowed the crowd, Tony would sit in the wings and try to remember the machine that had brought him here, scribbling equations and sketching pieces he'd barely seen. It was hard going without the aid of JARVIS to run the equations and all the variables for him. Having to do it all manually was a time consuming process, but really, where else did he have to go?

Looking up from his journal, he heard the crowd applauding and saw the giggling girls rush by him backstage. Amused, the dark haired man in his dress uniform watched as they waited, fluffed their hair, and tittered, peering at the stage eagerly.

Shaking his head, Tony went back to his writing and idly scratched at his chest, hearing his dog tags click against his metal heart. The worst part about being here was not being able to strip down and have a shower whenever he wanted.

He lived in constant fear of his arc reactor being discovered. Paranoia was high – if propaganda was to be believed, Nazis were waiting in every shadow, under every bed. Anything out of the norm was a threat to the country and Tony was definitely out of the norm.

The girls had worked themselves into a frenzy now; the show had ended and the drop dead gorgeous Captain America was about to come off the stage.

It was a strange truth, but Steve Rogers was a sex icon here and now. Tony couldn't help but smile over the irony. In his time, Steve was old fashioned, a relic of a bygone era. Usually Tony was the one in limelight, loved and hated by the press and the people. In 1943 though, Steve was all the people wanted. They loved him.

And Tony, for the first time in his life, was nobody. It was oddly liberating.

Steve was off the stage now and the girls converged like a pack of wolves. He gently rebuffed the most aggressive advances and smiled politely as he made his way towards Tony. Disappointed and smiling cutely, the dancers moved on to change, ready for the move to the next city.

Tony pensively watched them go as his worrisome thoughts returned. Since the night with Steve at boot camp, he'd been haunted. What was he doing with Steve here? Captain America was meant to be going to malt shops with those girls, not fooling around with an old man like him.

"Tony!" Steve was hurrying over, a wide smile on his face, costume cowl pulled back. "Guess what?" he breathed excitedly.

The dark haired man closed his notebook and tucked it away, giving the other man his full attention.

"We're going over," Steve beamed.

Tony raised an eyebrow, "Going over?"

Nodding, he grabbed Tony's hand, yanking him up and pulling him along. They were alone now as others busily started tearing down the set, getting ready to move. "Yes! Over there, to perform for the troops."

Tony felt the knot in his belly tighten; he'd been dreading and anticipating this day. The great POW rescue and the glory that would begin the legend of Captain America were fast approaching. And Tony had a nagging suspicion his friend from 2013 was going to try and make sure Captain America never walked away from that factory. The man from the future was ready, though. Iron Man Mk VII Retro, as he thought of it, would make its debut.

Steve hauled Tony into his dressing room, glancing around before shutting the door. Tony tried not to take it personally; it was simply a sign of the times. The 1940s wasn't gay-friendly.

Tony sat on the small stool next to the dresser. "You're excited to go over?" he asked.

Steve answered with a harsh, excited kiss. Tony responded instantly, hands moving to rest on cotton clad hips. They had been together almost three months now, sharing stolen moments like these. They would kiss fervently, holding each other tight, getting as much as they could before being forced apart.

Since that night in the shed, they'd gone no further than heated make-out sessions, mostly because they lacked the time and privacy, but also because of Tony's guilty conscience. He had given in that one night and his weakness had weighed heavily on him ever since.

Sighing, Tony pulled away, and Steve frowned in concern.

"Tony?"

Gently the smaller man grabbed Steve's hands and held them tightly. Taking a deep breath, Tony looked up into the clear blue eyes. "Steve, are you… I think…" he started, then sighed and looked away.

"I think we need to stop this," Tony finally got out. He could feel the big body stiffen, but was unable to look into that honest face or meet Steve's beautiful eyes.

Steve's heart stopped in his chest. He couldn't breathe; it felt like his asthma had returned. Why was Tony saying this? Doing this? "Tony, why?" he asked desperately as he reached out to the other man. "What did I do? Do I need to change? Just tell me and I'll do it."

Tony felt lower with every word, "No, Steve, it's not you." He finally looked into the stricken eyes; Steve looked desperate, scared, and ready to cry.

"Steve, no… please… I'm terrible at this emotion thing," Tony mumbled as he ran agitated hands through his hair. "It's not you, Steve. It's me… I don't want you to regret this," he gestured between them, dark eyes earnest.

"Those girls out there, they would love to have you. Peggy would, too. What do you want with an old, worn out… me…?" he trailed off.

Steve blinked in surprise as understanding dawned.

The blond was running the emotional spectrum, terrified that Tony would leave him, that he had screwed up the best thing that had happened to him, serum included. Tony had liked him before the serum, just as he was. Shaking his head, Steve gathered him close. "Tony…" he mumbled against the dark hair, "I thought you understood."

Sighing, Tony leaned back against the broad chest. "Understood what?" he asked, resolve beginning to crumble.

"Tony, the dames, the ladies, they don't… you know… for me," Steve trailed off with a blush.

The dark haired man blinked in understanding; apparently the Star Spangled Man with a Plan was just into boys.

Tony turned to him, shaking his head ruefully, "I'm not getting rid of you, am I?"

Steve was back to smiling, still blushing faintly, "No, you're not."

They kissed again, heated and intense, as Tony finally surrendered to the inevitable. Emotions running high, he deepened the kiss before pulling away. Steve warily looked at him; this time Tony was smirking.

Tony slid off the stool, falling to his knees before the other man. Curious, Steve let the nimble hands settle on his hips and tug his blue costume pants down. Tony licked his lips when the other man's rather substantial erection sprang free. He licked it root to tip, teasingly, before taking as much as he could, sucking hard.

Steve's knees went weak; shaking, he tried to stifle his moans. Hooded eyes watched the dark head move between his legs as that hot wet mouth worked him. Steve had never felt anything like it before. He felt as though he might shake apart at the seams.

Burying large hands in the dark hair, Steve tried to speak, "Tony, I…." As Tony hummed, Steve shuddered. Something tight and hot coiled in his belly. He gasped, doubling over. "Oh, Tony… I'm-" Steve broke off as he felt himself fall over the edge and spill into that hot mouth.

Tony sat back, his own erection heavy between his legs. Wiping his mouth, he looked up into that beautiful face. It was a surreal moment; he'd just given Captain America a blowjob in his dressing room.

It was bizarre, amazing, and totally a turn on. Tony stared up into those dazed blue eyes as the tall blond leaned against the dressing table, tights pulled to his thighs, looking thoroughly debauched. Tony couldn't help himself; he palmed himself though his dress pants, moaning faintly.

Noticing his uncomfortable situation, Steve sank to his knees before him. Eager hands undid his belt and tugged his pants down as Steve enthusiastically gripped him, pumping eagerly.

"Shit, Steve…" he leaned forward to grab a broad shoulder. He was so close…

Despite the inexperienced touch, it was Steve touching him, and Tony was already beyond turned on. It only took a couple more pumps before he was spilling into Steve's hand. Panting, he leaned his forehead against the big blond, eyes closed as he smiled.

"Was it good?" Steve asked hesitantly, kissing him on the cheek.

Tony returned the sweet gesture, "More than good."

-#-#-#-

It was an all too familiar feeling – the pounding of blood in his ears, the surge of adrenaline that gave him the best high he'd ever known.

Tony Stark never felt more alive than he did when heading to battle.

The suit was working better than he'd anticipated. Stripped down to only the necessities, it was wholly powered by the power source in his chest. The blue pulse a comfort as he silently followed the figure navigating the darkened forest below.

Steve was quickly making his way toward the brightly lit Hydra base tucked away in the middle of nowhere. The Cap had no idea he was here, doing what he was. As far as the handsome blond knew, Tony was back at the camp, waiting and worrying while Captain America saved the day.

He tried to focus, to get his head right for what needed to be done. Thoughts of the week past, though, intruded in his restless mind…

_The USO shows overseas had not gone nearly as well as the others. His heart had broken for Steve. The man was lost, frustrated, and better than all this. He was still struggling to find his place in this new world. He'd been given all the tools, but no one was willing to give him the opportunity. _

_Tony knew things needed to unfold as they had; it was going to make the legend of the Captain America. Still, it didn't stop Tony's heart from aching as he watched the man struggle._

_Then Peggy had shown up._

_Tony would be lying if he'd claimed not to be jealous that it was Agent Carter motivating him. He knew it was irrational, silly even. In the end it really didn't matter who did it – what mattered was that Steve got that push._

_Still, Tony couldn't help the way he felt, even as he prepared to follow him. _

_They had been sharing cramped quarters since reaching the front. The inventor was ever thankful Steve had no idea what he was constantly working on, whether it was blueprints or pieces of his suit. _

_Tony had been putting the finishing touches on his chest piece when Steve had hurried in out of the rain, looking solemn and resolute._

"_They're not going to send anyone to try and save the POWs. I have to go, Tony. I have to do this," Steve had said as he'd gripped Tony's callused hands, looking at him with determination, willing him to understand. _

"_I know," Tony replied. His answer clearly startled Steve, who blinked his blue eyes in surprise. _

"_You do?" _

_Nodding slowly, the smaller man offered him a small, sad smile, unable to help himself. "You may not believe me, Steve, but you're destined for great things." Steve's surprise didn't dissipate, but a spark of curiosity ignited in his intelligent eyes. _

_Tony said nothing more, though; instead he leaned forward to kiss Steve harshly, willing him to understand. The hard rain pattered on the tent as they lost themselves in one another until booted feet hurried by, drawing them back to reality. Hastily they broke apart. _

"_Go," Tony said, pushing him away gently. "Be safe." He watched, mesmerized, as a familiar hard, resolute look fell across that beautiful face for the first time; this was Captain America, the first Avenger. _

Steve had just reached the Hydra plant now. Tony waited until the helmeted figure disappeared inside before focusing on his own mission.

He knew the man was there, the one who had set this whole chain of events into motion; he could feel it in his gut. He was going to make a desperate final play to make sure Captain America would never complete his mission.

Iron Man had every intention of making sure Steve would.


	8. Right Time

Author's Note: Freshly beta'd chapter. Many thanks ravingbeauty for getting this beta'd for me and making me look so good.

Man Out of Time

Part 8 – Right Time

Circling the large factory cautiously, Tony flew close to the large windows, checking each room carefully, unsure what he was looking for – but he found nothing save labs, living quarters, and hallways. Frustrated, he kept moving.

He smirked when the alarms began to ring. Things were heating up and Captain America was making his presence known.

The alarms also meant that Tony was running out of time.

Speeding up, he almost missed it.

Tony had almost dismissed the room as yet another lab, but paused when something in his mind clicked over – there was an eerily familiar machine dominating the space.

Breaking in the window, he entered the darkened space. Brown eyes widened as he took in the machine. It was only half built, but still discernable – a time machine.

Excited, he could hear his heartbeat drumming in his ears and feel hope rising in his chest. Moving further into the workspace, he spotted a journal lying on the table. He reached out, about to take it, when the door burst open. Silhouetted in the light from the hall was a familiar, wild-eyed man.

Tony turned, and the man froze, eyes narrowing. "Iron Man," he spat.

"The one and only," the man from the future quipped.

"I thought you died coming through," the man said as he took several steps into the room.

"Can't kill me that easily," Tony held his ground, waiting. They fell into a silent standoff, staring one another down, while Tony waited for his opponent to make the first move.

He did. With seemingly unnatural speed, the man pulled a gun; the fight was on.

It didn't take long for the assassin to realize he was sorely outmatched. His realization was only confirmed when Tony threw him through a wall and crumpled the gun in his iron grip.

Using the lull to his advantage, the genius called out, wanting answers, "Why did you do this?" The dust was still settling as he stepped through the gaping hole toward where the man had fallen.

"Because he is an abomination to mankind, just as you are!" the man screamed as he hit Tony with something pulsing and blue. The gun blast knocked him backwards through the wall and into the machine. Ears ringing, arc reactor sputtering, Tony shook his head as blue lightning crackled around him. A surge of energy flowed through the suit, and the blue light throbbed with renewed vigor.

"I'll be damned," Tony grinned, standing as the man leveled the Hydra gun again. Tony fired first, sending the strange weapon skidding across the floor.

His weapon lost, the assailant angrily charged the super hero. Iron Man managed to pin him as the building rocked with the first explosion; time was almost up. Through playing around, Tony stood up, metal hands fisted in the Nazi uniform the man sported.

"All this because Captain America was an abomination?" He leaned close, "You failed."

The battered man grinned, "Did I?"

Tony hesitated, taking in the demented grin that slashed across the man's bloodied face as he glared defiantly.

"You're here, aren't you, Mr. Stark… with no way home."

Startled, Tony released the man on instinct as the floor shifted beneath them and the explosions grew closer. He had to get out now.

Laughing wildly, the man collapsed on the floor, "You lose, Iron Man! He may live, but you're here now, and the future…" He trailed off as a jagged line of fire darted through the hole in the wall separating them.

Tony stepped back as the red light reflected in his somewhat tarnished armor.

The man stood slowly, still laughing, "Goodbye, Iron Man."

Galvanized into action as the flames leapt higher, Tony headed to the window, pausing only a moment to grab the journal from the burning worktable. The man's erratic laughter echoed behind him as the factory shook down to its foundations.

Mind in turmoil, Tony hurriedly blasted off, needing to get out of the blast radius before- He didn't even finish his thought before he was caught in the final explosion, the shock catapulting him across the sky.

Iron Man gritted his teeth as he tried to gain some control over his trajectory. Barely managing to start the suit's thrusters, he was able to slow his plummet into the dense forest. The impact rattled his whole body, sending him sliding along the ground, where a large tree finally ended his journey.

Dazed and panting in exertion, Tony let his head drop back with a groan.

-#-#-#-

Only a few yards away, Captain America was leading a ragtag band of POWs through the dark woods and away from the smoldering remains of the factory.

Perceptive blue eyes had seen an unknown something arching through the sky overhead. Worried it was Hydra, he turned to his best friend, "Bucky, keep going. I'm going to see what that was." Still dazed, the other man just nodded and followed the directive as Steve hurried into the underbrush.

Treading carefully, Steve raised his flimsy shield when he found a deep furrow plowed into the ground. Crouching now, he felt the familiar roar of adrenaline in his ears as he crested the small hill. He was ready for anything… except what he saw.

Tony stood slowly, grunting as his head protested the upright movement.

"Halt!" a strong, commanding voice called.

Tony froze – it was Captain America. He cursed to himself as he slowly turned to face the soldier. Tony's breath caught in his sore chest as he looked at the Captain. Steve was dirty and sweaty, but looking triumphant. Tony knew in an instant that he'd completed his mission.

The blond couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was a man… made of iron.

His mind was having difficulty wrapping around the concept. He held his shield uncertainly, the fingers of his other hand hovering near the pistol strapped to his hip. Unsure if it was friend or foe, Steve's hand drifted closer to his weapon.

"No need for that, Captain. I'm a friend," Tony said, thankful the suit made his voice tinny and unrecognizable.

Steve slowly lowered his shield, amazed as the man of metal shifted.

"I have to go now. Good work today, Captain." There was a clink as the man gave him a salute. Steve watched as the man put his arms by his side, taking off from the ground and disappearing into the night sky.

Captain America stood bemused for long moments.

It had been a man in a suit of metal, an iron man.

-#-#-#-

Steve stared intently at the drawing he'd just completed.

He'd been feeling detached, like he wasn't himself, the past couple of days.

Drawing helped. He'd filled an entire sketchbook already and was starting another. The subject matter more often than not was Tony – Tony wearing combats, Tony in dress uniform, Tony grease-stained and smiling at him softly.

The most recent drawing, though, was a man in an iron suit in the middle of the woods. Broad, charcoal-stained fingers touched the picture gently. He knew now who it was, but then he hadn't. His head ached dully as his memories continued overlaying, distorting, and changing.

Steve remembered waking from the ice, meeting Tony, and absolutely hating the man. Somehow, though, the billionaire had firmly situated himself in his heart and showed no signs of leaving. It had happened gradually, but somehow, someway, he had fallen in love with the brash, outrageous, brilliant man.

And now his past self was doing it all over again in 1943. Only 1943 Steve was getting more action than he ever had in 2013. He blinked and stared at the sketch, recalling the mysterious man of iron he had met in the wood. Steve had been intrigued by the meeting.

Smiling softly, he yawned again, eyes drifting closed as strong stained fingers gently touched the picture he'd drawn.

-#-#-#-

The pub was crowded and noisy.

Steve stepped away from his new men to buy the next round. They were back in England, enjoying a much-needed respite after the rescue of the POWs. The last week had been a whirlwind, generating a maelstrom of media coverage and propaganda.

Steve felt overwhelmed, yet excited at the same time. He had found his place; this is what he was meant to do. Captain America would stand against Hydra, and now he had men to stand at his back, best friend included.

"So Captain, you thinking of winning the war all on your own?" Bucky grinned, looking a little wan and a lot drunk.

Steve shook his head, "Not alone, no."

Snorting, the dark headed man chuckled. "I see that, suckering everyone into going back there," he teased. Abruptly Bucky's eyes widened as he caught sight of a woman in crimson approaching. She was a vision in the smoky pub.

Steve smiled pleasantly as Agent Margaret Carter relayed her message. Despite Bucky's best efforts, her only had eyes for the perfect blond. Still feeling the sting of rejection, the dark haired man watched as she sauntered out, ignoring the wolf whistles following her.

"What a dame," Bucky muttered as he took a sip of his beer. Turning to his now much larger friend, he eyed him questioningly. He'd known Steve since they were children; they knew more about one another than anyone else.

"So, the serum… it, ummm…" Bucky hedged as he glanced around to make sure no one was listening. "It changed everything about you?" He dropped his voice and raised an eyebrow.

Steve gave him a bashful grin in response. Bucky had found out about his tastes when they'd been in high school. He had truly been lucky to have such an understanding and accepting friend.

"No," Steve shook his head, giving his friend a half smile.

"Poor girl," Bucky chuckled. "So, you have your eye on anyone then?"

The dark flush that covered his friend's face said it all.

"Do you, ummm… remember that gentleman I introduced you to after we got back?"

Bucky frowned, "The older man that looked like he'd lost a fight?"

Steve chuckled at the description, "Tony."

Bucky laughed loudly, "You always did have a thing for older men. Remember when we were eighteen and you had a crush on John's older brother?"

Steve shrugged, sure he was red as a tomato.

Bucky's smile slipped then; his expression sobered as he looked at his best friend frankly. All he wanted was for Steve to be happy – no matter what that meant. He'd been dealt a bad hand in life, and for the first time things were beginning to turn around. Bucky didn't want to see him hurt again, "Does he feel the same way?"

Steve's smile widened, "Yes."

-#-#-#-

As the friends chatted in the pub, the subject of their conversation was sitting in a top-secret underground facility. They had given him a lab to work in, as Colonel Phillips still believed what Erskine had told him, that Tony's work was instrumental to the war effort.

For the first time in the week since the great escape, the man from the future had a moment to sit and think. Steve was recruiting the Howling Commandos of legend and Tony was staring at his ticket home.

The journal he'd taken belonged to a Doctor Hans Van Broker, containing all his research and designs for a machine he believed would be able to move someone through time. All the doctor had been lacking was a sufficient power source and the will to use it.

It was amazingly complex and beautifully simplistic in its design. Tony was both impressed, and a little astounded that such a thing was achievable in this time. Having read the small handwritten book cover to cover several times, he had been able to modify the designs, re-run the complex formulas, and create something entirely his own.

Now as he sat unmoving and stared at the prototype sketched out before him, he had to wonder… Had actually done it, or it was all simply his homesick heart playing tricks? Tony was trying to be realistic, to not get too excited, but that undeniable sense of hope tugged at him strongly.

He could do this. He had made his arc reactor in a cave in Afghanistan for Christ's sake. He was Tony fucking Stark – goddamn right he could build a time machine. Plus he already had the power source. Well, Howard had it, but no doubt he could get a sliver.

His pencil began to move again, making notations and jotting down calculations, as his mind kicked into overdrive. With a renewed sense of purpose and a belief he would see his time again, Tony blocked out the world around him. His focus narrowed, shutting out all but the task at hand. He feverishly lost himself in work, not noticing another person in the room until a pair of strong arms wrapped around him.

Tony froze immediately.

"Shhh, it's only me, Tony," Steve mumbled as he pressed a warm kiss to his neck.

"Christ, Steve, you scared me," Tony held a hand to his pounding chest, feeling the cool metal under his combats. Smiling, he turned his head to kiss the blond softly, sweetly.

They hadn't had any alone time since the Cap's debut as a superhero. Tony had missed this, the closeness. He hated this backward, prejudiced time; it was terrible having to hide away from society, to be unable to show affection whenever he wanted.

They parted reluctantly, and the soldier moved to lean against the sturdy wood table, "Working on something new?"

Tony nodded and eyed the gorgeous man, who looked especially handsome in his dress uniform. "How'd it go with the men?" he asked conversationally as he tugged the bigger man to stand between his legs and looked up into the deep blue eyes.

"Good. I, umm… I told Bucky about us. He knows about me," Steve trailed off, looking both flushed and proud.

Tony grinned widely in response.

"You're not mad?" the Cap asked hesitantly.

Tony just shook his head; he wanted to shout it to the world.

"Tony, can I tell you something?" Steve said, glancing away, looking a little embarrassed.

Curious, the older man cocked his head to the side and ran his hands down the other man's arms soothingly, "You can tell me anything."

Steve wrapped his arms around Tony's neck and leaned into him. "Out in the woods after freeing the POWs there was…" he paused, trying to find the right words. "I saw something in the woods."

Tony's heart began to beat faster and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. Had Steve figured out it was him?

"I'm not sure what it was, but I think it was perhaps a man… in a suit of armor."

Tony swallowed, mouth suddenly like cotton. "O-oh?" he tried to seem detached, cool.

"I don't think he was with Hydra, though. He said he was a friend." Steve looked thoughtful and a little wistful.

Tony let out a relieved breath, "What makes you think it was a man?"

The soldier shrugged, "He spoke."

Tony wanted to laugh in giddy relief, "You sound rather taken with this man in armor. Should I be jealous?"

Steve blushed a bright crimson. Tony's dark eyes blinked in shock – there was no way…

"No, Tony, I'm not… it was just…" Steve trailed off and Tony wanted to hit his head against something hard. Steve had a crush on Iron Man? He wasn't sure if he was jealous or flattered.

He bit back a laugh as he tugged Steve down to meet his lips, "I'll just have to make you forget all about this man of iron."


	9. Time to Go

Author's Note: Hot of the beta'd press…I love this one omg it's awesome story. Thanks ravingbeauty for once more making it even better.

Man Out of Time

Part 9 – Time to Go

The days became familiar, a somewhat comforting routine to the man from another time. It didn't really matter the when or the where; as long as Tony Stark had a project, he would not rest until he saw it through.

He had all the faith in the world that he could build a time machine, but it was time consuming. The calculations were complex, and the precision required made him wish he were back in his own lab. Still Tony pushed gamely on, helping Howard in the lab when he needed a break from his own work.

Captain America, on the other hand, was in high demand. Gone for weeks at a time, he and the Howling Commandos were taking out Hydra factories one by one. Tony tried not to worry, having the terrible fortune of knowing the outcome of his missions. He was still relieved, though, every time the soldier returned to base safe and sound.

The dark haired man always looked forward to his return, but most of all he looked forward to their little game – one that was just for the two of them.

It began with heated glances and secret touches during debriefings. Tony usually accompanied Howard to hear about any new tech that had been discovered. It was a dangerous game they played, but one they couldn't help.

After being apart, it was almost impossible to hold back. Yearning to touch and taste, they barely managed to stay apart until they reached the relative safety of Tony's lab, where they would fall onto his small army cot in a tangle of limbs and lips.

They were six months into their relationship and Tony's appearance in the 1940s. Their intimacy had yet to take that final step, though. Tony wanted to in the worst way; he just had one large, glowing issue embedded firmly in his chest.

Terrified to remove his shirt even during the hot days of summer, Tony had very consciously, very carefully made sure his glow was concealed. Still, he couldn't complain. Steve was everything – Tony loved him, and even though their relationship was illicit in this time and place, to Tony it well worth the risk.

As 1944 approached, however, Tony found it more and more difficult to stay behind as Steve went out on missions. He had tried his best to stay away, an effort to minimize his influence on the past as much as possible. With every passing day, though, his resolve began to crumble.

In 2013, Iron Man had spent a year fighting side by side with Captain America. Since that fateful day in New York when the chips were down, they'd had each other's backs. And to not have Steve's back now, in 1944, was frustrating.

Tony stared across the conference table as Steve gave his report to the Colonel. Tony wasn't listening to his words, though; he was looking at the bruised face, where cuts still marred the skin. He frowned intently, focusing his attention when he heard his name.

"Yes, I think Stark should join us on this mission. There are things there we don't understand. Having an engineering perspective would be beneficial." All eyes turned to Howard, who'd been fiddling with something at the end of the table, a trait Tony had grudgingly learned he shared with the man.

"Whoa, no way, I'm not a soldier," Howard held his hands up with a smirk. "I do my best work in the lab."

Before he could think better of it, Tony spoke, "I'll go." All eyes were on him now, but he was only interested in one set. "I'll go," he said again, glancing from Steve to the Colonel.

"Good man," Phillips said gruffly. "You'll leave tonight."

Tony could tell Steve wasn't pleased with his offer, but they had no time to speak. Caught up in a whirlwind of activity and preparation, Tony managed to avoid the inevitable lecture. Steve had apparently always been a mother hen.

So two hours later, before Steve could make him stay, they were on a plane heading to Italy and the next Hydra target.

The Commandos joked and snickered as they made bets on whether or not Tony Starling would live through the operation. Across from them, the man at the center of the speculation calmly ignored the joking. Jotting notes in his journal, making calculations and adjustments to his time machine as numbers and theories ran through his head.

While Tony may not have been bothered, Steve definitely was. Leaning over, he tried to speak to his lover over the roar of the plane. "Tony…" he began, suddenly unsure of what to say.

The smaller man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to remain calm, reminding himself yet again that Steve didn't know he was Iron Man and didn't know what he was capable of. As far as everyone knew, he was Tony _Starling_, a scientist and no doubt a serious handicap to the mission.

"Relax, Cap. I can handle myself," Tony said shortly and tucked the journal away as they approached the drop point. They stood and double-checked their parachutes before shuffling to the door.

Tony felt naked without his armor; he was Iron Man, after all. Still, he had learned to handle himself and trained with the best of the best. As they leapt from the plane, Tony set his jaw. He may not have his armor, but he was still Iron Man.

-#-#-#-

Tony Stark was in a bad way.

Biting his lip hard enough to bleed, he slowly, painfully, staggered a short distance away from where the others were sleeping. Making sure no one had followed, he leaned heavily against a tree. Carefully unbuttoned his combats and pulled the sleeve off his left shoulder, grunting in pain.

He didn't want to look, _really_ didn't want to look, but knew he had to. Using the glow from his chest, Tony peeled back the darkly stained gauze to reveal a bullet wound. He panted heavily as he touched the angry, inflamed skin around the wound, cursing when he confirmed his fears; it was infected.

Chest heaving, he leaned back against the cold wood and closed his eyes. His overheated body valiantly fighting a loosing battle against the infection. "Just make it through the night," he told himself.

Opening tired eyes, he looked at the dark, star filled sky as the events of the last five days played back hazily in his mind's eye.

_They had taken the factory by storm._

_Steve, as always, had led the charge; much to the surprise of the others, though, at his back was Starling. Tony had found himself falling into familiar habits, knowing, anticipating, and despite the lack of his suit, still able to hold his own against Hydra._

_He'd even thought Steve had been amazed at how well they worked together. Tony kind of hoped he'd done the Steve from his time proud. He was feeling confident by the time the last of the enemies fell, dark eyes scanning for any other threats. _

_Steve had moved further into the factory just as Tony spotted a man leveling his gun at the red, white, and blue Cap. Without thinking, he'd done what he always had during a fight – he'd stepped in front of Steve and taken the bullet. This time, though, Tony wasn't wearing his armor. _

_He was hit in the shoulder, grunting at the impact. Immediately Steve had seen the man and tossed his shield with ease. The Commandos had gathered, ready to strip Tony down and doctor him up. Terrified, Tony had played the injury off as just a graze, trying to ignore the warm wetness dripping down his chest. _

_Later, when he'd been able, he had managed to sneak away and dig out the bullet. _

That had been four days ago.

And it would appear that despite his efforts to keep the wound clean, he had failed miserably. Taking shallow breaths, Tony buttoned up and slowly returned to the camp. He just hoped he'd make it through the night and to the extraction the following morning.

-#-#-#-

While Tony was trying to hide his wound, Captain America was having some rather heavy thoughts about his man. He had been shocked, and more than a little impressed, by Tony this last week.

Secretly he had agreed with his men at the outset, worried that Tony would be a burden to the team. Steve had been ready to protect him with his life – only it had been Tony who had saved his life, stepping between him and a bullet.

The blond had thought he knew the man, but after this week... Steve wasn't so sure anymore.

Tony had always been somewhat of a mystery to him; it was part of his charm. Now, though, he wondered just how much Tony was hiding from him.

"You're thinking too loud, I can't sleep," Bucky mumbled beside him. The pair was on first watch, stationed some distance from the others.

"Sorry," Steve muttered as his eyes panned the shadowy landscape.

The other man chuckled, "Thinking about your beau?"

Steve glanced impassively at his friend.

"He surprised us all, Steve," Bucky continued. "If I didn't know any better, I would think he'd been in a fight or two before."

The blond sighed. "I feel like I don't even know who he is…" he trailed off, frowning.

"It's the way of every relationship, Steve, be it a man or a woman. People have secrets."

Steve didn't like hearing that; he wanted to know everything about Tony.

Bucky cut his eyes toward the other man; he could just make out his best friend glowering in the moonlight. "Steve, even if he does have a secret or two, he's still the man you fell for."

Captain America grinned at him ruefully, "How'd you get to be so wise?"

Bucky settled back against a tree and sighed, "It wasn't because I joined the army."

-#-#-#-

"Bruce, have you seen these?" Natasha held out a drawing to the doctor, face unreadable.

The dark haired man looked down at the drawing. It was a picture of Tony Stark, only his hair was longer and he was in uniform, helmet pushed back on his head. He stood with a group of other men, who Bruce recognized as the Howling Commandos.

Steve had been drawing almost nonstop in the three days since Tony's jump through time. They could track his every movement through the images the man was producing.

"I have," Bruce said as he glanced at some of the others, wondering what she was worrying about.

"Bruce, I thought the first rule in fictional time travel was to not mess with the timeline."

The man sighed, rubbing tired eyes, "Yes, well, seeing as no one else to date has actually gone back in time, I would think the learning curve is rather steep. Tony must be trying his best not to change things. For all intents and purposes, the timeline has remained the same; Steve is still Captain America and Doctor Erskine died, taking the formula for the serum with him." He looked at the redheaded woman across from him; she seemed tired and worried.

Natasha sighed and collapsed into a nearby kitchen chair, "I know, it's just… so quiet around here. Tony's gone, and Steve sleeps all the time."

Bruce sat across from her, smiling sympathetically, "I miss him, too."

-#-#-#-

Steve was worried, very worried.

Tony sat across from him in the cargo hold of the plane as they headed back to headquarters. His face was unnaturally pale, with dark rings under his eyes, and he seemed to be sweating profusely. He looked sick.

Steve wanted nothing more than to gather him close in his arms and demand to know what was wrong, but it was neither the time nor the place. They would be back soon and he'd be able to find out what was wrong.

When the plane touched down sometime later, Tony waited as the others, laughing and joking, headed for the pub to celebrate another safe return. He stood and groaned as his world tilted crazily before righting. His feverish mind focused on getting back to his lab; he would go there and then he'd fix himself. It didn't make any sense, but in his overheated mind it seemed like a perfectly sound solution.

Struggling, Tony focused on placing one foot before the other as he slowly, painfully moved to exit.

"Tony?" the soft voice was at his side. Steve was there, looking solid, strong, and oh so handsome in the fading light of the open gangway. "Are you ok?" he asked, concern in every line of his face.

Tony opened his mouth to say he was fine, just a little motion sickness, when his knees seemed to fail him. "No…" he managed before his legs buckled and he tipped towards the metal floor.

Strong arms scooped Tony up, and Steve gasped at the heat rolling off the man, "Tony, we need to get you to medical."

The words slowly penetrated his fever-induced delirium. "No!" Tony cried vehemently, clutching at his chest. "No hospitals and no doctors," he pleaded as he gripped at Steve's shoulder. "Just take me to my lab."

The soldier blinked in concern, but was willing to go along for now. "Ok…" he said softly. Wrapping an arm around Tony's shoulders, Steve half-carried, half-walked him toward the base.

It was late enough that they didn't encounter many people as they navigated to the lower levels. Tony was thankful for that, as every step was a jarring agony.

"Tony, what is…" Steve trailed off. The smaller man looked worse with every step, and he could feel that unnatural heat radiating off him.

Once they stepped into the cool lab, Steve was on him in a heartbeat. Too weak to struggle much, Tony tried to stop him, but the larger man easily overpowered him, all but ripping his shirt off. Dazed, Tony tried to turn away, his hands automatically coming up to protect the most vulnerable part of himself.

The soldier froze as the darkened room suddenly filled with a pulsing blue glow emanating from the man himself.

Tony folded in on himself. Dropping to his knees, he clutched his chest as tightly as he could, the angry wound in his shoulder protesting every movement.

The small whimper of pain snapped Steve out of his shock, and he slowly knelt before the hunched, trembling figure. He reached out to him hesitantly, worried when Tony shied away from his touch.

"Don't be scared, Tony, it's me. I won't hurt you," he soothed, trying to pull him into his arms. Too dazed to protest, the smaller man felt himself being tugged into strong arms.

Steve ignored the blue glowing device for now as he peeled away the stained, haphazard dressing on Tony's shoulder. Tony flinched at Steve's gasp of horror, "Oh my God, Tony…"

Tony whimpered again. Dark eyes pleaded with Steve as Tony's feverish mind fixated on a single thought, "Please… they can't know."

Steve brushed back sweat matted hair, "I won't tell them, Tony. I'll keep you safe." He didn't understand why the man he loved had a light in his chest, but he understood the worry. Something like this would definitely raise eyebrows.

Moving quickly, Steve grabbed a sheet from the cot. Doubling it over, he carefully wrapped it around the metal contraption to conceal the bright blue while leaving the horrendous wound accessible for treatment.

Barely conscious, the dark haired man allowed himself to be picked up as Steve hurriedly gathered him into his arms and ran for medical.

There were few people on duty when the soldier burst in with the delirious man in his arms. The doctor startled and met him halfway across the room.

"On the cot, sir," the doctor directed and gestured to the neatly made bed.

Steve carefully laid Tony down, still wearing his combat pants and dirty boots.

After gathering a tray of tools the doctor returned, studying the wound for several seconds and hissing though his teeth.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Steve asked the doctor, though he kept his eyes fixed on Tony, who was mumbling deliriously.

"Yes, Captain, it is," the doctor muttered as he gently probed the shoulder. When he reached for the sheet wrapped across the semi-conscious man's chest, though, Steve quickly put a hand out to stop him, feeling the cool metal concealed beneath the cloth.

"That stays," he stated firmly as he stared the doctor down. Wisely, the medical man chose not to argue with Captain America.

Steve stayed by Tony's side as they carefully lanced and cleaned the wound. Finally the doctor neatly sewed the hole closed, all the while muttering, "Shouldn't try to do field surgery."

The Captain paused and looked over, "What are you talking about?"

The older man looked at him over his glasses, "After he was shot someone dug the bullet out with a knife."

Blue eyes widened as Steve looked at the unconscious man lying incredibly still on the bed, Steve's strong hand still firmly on the center of his chest. Tony had been shot, taken a bullet for him, and then removed it himself.

"I'm starting penicillin for the infection. He'll be just fine, Captain, if that's the extent of his injuries." The doctor pointedly looked from the wrapped sheet to the soldier.

"Yes." Steve assured him.

Nodding, the doctor finished his work and departed the curtained space, leaving the Captain staring at the man who had come to mean so much to him. Reaching out a dirty hand he clasped Tony's, sighing, "Who are you, Tony Starling?"


	10. Down Time

Author's Note: Thanks ravingbeauty for the awesome work!

WARNING MAN ON MAN SEX!

Man Out of Time

Part 10 – Down Time

He woke slowly, his mind muzzy and slow. The pain and pressure of infection in his shoulder, however, had lessened.

Tony breathed easier, blinking the haze from dark eyes. Glancing around, he took stock of the curtains, the small cot, and the rather outdated-looking IV beside him. He was in a hospital or, more likely, the infirmary on base.

Suddenly terrified of what that could mean, Tony sat up and clutched his chest desperately. He expelled a shaky breath when he felt cool cloth wrapped firmly around him, hiding his arc reactor. As he thought back, bits and pieces of the night before filtered through his mind – the lab, Steve ripping off his shirt, the terrible pain. Dark eyes glanced down to check his shoulder, which was now neatly stitched and bandaged.

Frowning, Tony turned spotting the soldier slumped in the chair by his beside. Still wearing his uniform, Steve was dirty and stained and looking far better than anyone should.

Steve had kept his secret.

Tony reached up to press his callused palm over the metal as his heart beat a little faster. He hadn't thought it possible to love the strong, courageous man any more than he already did. Without question, the blond had trusted him. Someone having that much faith in him was humbling.

Tony felt eyes on him and slowly turned to meeting those big, beautiful blues. Steve wasn't smiling, though. He looked solemn, serious, and more than a little worried.

The man from the future cleared his throat, offering a hesitant half-smile, "I owe you an explanation."

Steve nodded slowly.

"But not here… too many ears." Tony tugged at the IV as Steve frowned at him.

"Tony, no," he reached forward to stop him too late; the smaller man already had the needle out.

Waving Steve off, Tony climbed out of bed and stood a little unsteadily, pulling the scratchy wool blanket around him. Steve watched, feeling detached, like it was a dream he was having.

"You coming?" The dark, unreadable eyes regarded him, betraying nothing.

The blond hesitated a moment, wondering what was to come. His curiosity won out, though, and Steve hurried after Tony as he turned to leave.

They remained silent as they navigated the hallways. It was still early, but the base was already busy enough that the pair attracted several odd looks. Once safely locked in the lab, the tension settled thick enough to cut.

Finally Tony dropped the wool blanket and sat heavily in front of the workbench. Steve hesitantly followed sat before him, only inches separating them. Without a word, Tony unwrapped the sheet, allowing it to fall away, his glow filling the dimly lit room.

Fascinated, Steve studied the device before glancing at the dark haired man and waiting silently.

Tony paused, truly at a loss as to where to begin, wondering idly if he should make something up. But those blue eyes, boring steadily into his own, compelled honesty. Steve had kept his secret, and he deserved nothing but the truth – only in this case the truth was more unreal than any lie he could invent.

"What do you say when the truth is stranger than fiction?" Tony mumbled, and the other man cocked his head curiously.

It all boiled down to fear. Tony was more scared of this than of anything he had done, bar none, even when they hooked him up to that car battery. This could cost him Steve, and he'd be completely alone in this time. It was a horrifying possibility.

Focusing on those beautiful clear eyes, Tony began speaking softly, "What I'm about to tell you… I only ask you keep an open mind." Leaning forward, he his rested his elbows on his knees and ran a hand through his already wild hair. "My name is not Anthony Starling, it's Anthony Stark. I will be the son of Howard Stark. I am from the year 2013."

The silence seemed to ring deafeningly.

Steve's face didn't change, didn't even twitch.

Tony looked down and away, gripping his hands, ignoring the pull in his shoulder. As the quiet stretched on, Tony was sure he was going to burst.

"Why are you here in 1944?" the softly spoken question had Tony jumping, looking up at Steve hesitantly.

"You believe me?" Tony asked softly. "Just like that?"

Shaking his head, Steve reached out and took Tony's callused hand in his own, "I'm not sure yet, the idea is a difficult one to grasp. Still, you're looking at a man who put his faith in the impossible when he stepped into a machine a ninety pound asthmatic and stepped out Captain America."

Grinning, Tony shook his head. Damn unflappable Spangles.

"It also may explain some things, like the way you talk and act."

Tony was laughing outright now; more relieved than anything, he grinned. "Damn, and I thought I was blending so well." He squeezed Steve's hand, "I am here because some bad men from the future came back here to make sure certain events would not happen. Thankfully they failed and things are unfolding just as they should," Tony trailed off, wondering just how much he should reveal.

"If that is so, then why haven't you returned to your own time?"

Tony sighed, damn the perceptive man, "Well, it was meant to be a one way trip… I'm working on it, but not sure if I can."

Steve looked at him steadily, thoughtfully, "It must have been a very important reason for you to come, to risk so much."

Tony nodded and looked into the blue eyes, his heart willing the man to understand, "It was worth everything."

Steve said nothing, mulling over what had been said for long moments. He couldn't even begin to imagine moving through time. Tony was a man from the future, here in the past trying to accomplish the impossible.

A sudden terrible thought occurred to Steve. What of them? His heart beat a little harder, and his palms felt clammy. What if it had all been a lie? "Tony?" he asked hesitatingly, not sure he wanted to know the answer. "What we have, has it… is it…?" He trailed off, looking suddenly scared and sad.

Brown eyes widened when he realized what the big guy was trying to ask. He cut him off quickly, "Steve, the only thing that is keeping me sane and able to function in this time is you."

Tony leaned forward and kissed the big man softly as Steve settled his hands on Tony's hips and pulled him close. Distantly Steve heard the small metallic sound of Tony's tags clinking against the metal in his chest. The noise made him pause; he'd heard it many times before and always wondered what was making the sound. Now he knew.

"Do all people have these in the future?" Steve gestured to the blue light.

Disappointed the make out session had ended, Tony looked down, "No… this is a terrible privilege that belongs only to me," he looked at Steve sadly. "My penance," he confessed softly, for the first time giving voice to the hidden truth.

Steve leaned forward curiously, eager for the story, but Tony slowly shook his head, "It's a long, sad, sob story. Let's just say it made me want to be a better man, made me a better man. I will tell you – I promise I will one day – but for now the less you know, the better off we'll be. I'm sorry."

The blond tilted his head, "I don't understand."

Tony sighed wearily, "History shapes the future, and the events that happen here will resonate in my time. I cannot interfere with what is going to occur or I risk changing the future. Everything happens for a reason, be it good or bad."

Steve looked at him blankly, and Tony chuckled, "If I were to, for instance, tell Howard he was going to meet his future wife at a social dance in a couple of months, I may change his mind. He may not go, and I may never be born."

As comprehension dawned, Steve's eyes widened impossibly large. He sat back and whistled, overwhelmed. "This is a lot to take in," he muttered.

Tony laughed mirthlessly, "You're telling me." They sat in silence a while longer as the dark haired man studied Captain America. He could almost see him working through the information, weighing and deciding.

Tony would be content to watch him all day. Already he felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted off his chest; it was nice to know that someone knew who he really was. Even if he never made it home, at least Steve would know the truth.

"Can I touch?" Steve's voice jarred him from his thoughts.

Tony blinked, "Sorry?"

The blond gestured with his chin, "Can I touch it?" He was looking intently at the blue glow in Tony's chest.

"Sure," Tony said softly, shivering as Steve set his hand on the ring of light and traced the outline where scar tissue and metal met. He looked fascinated.

"Can at least you tell me what it does?" Steve asked.

A look of infinite sadness passed across Tony's face, making him looked older than Steve had ever seen him, "It keeps pieces of shrapnel from entering my heart and killing me."

Startled, Steve blinked. Just when he thought nothing more could surprise him… "So if it's pulled out…" he trailed off, covering the blue glow protectively. They froze that way for an instant, Steve's large hand pressed against the cool of his chest.

Then, adrenaline rushing through him, Tony leaned forward and kissed the blond fiercely, all the emotion he couldn't voice properly spilling forth.

As Steve returned the desperate kiss, things escalated quickly, the impossible confessions fueling their need, the pent up tension and passion overwhelming. They needed to touch one another, to reaffirm they were alive. Steve had nearly lost this man he'd come to love; he couldn't bear the thought of never seeing Tony again.

Panting, Tony pulled away to tug off Steve's Captain America shirt, revealing the broad, chiseled chest. The shorter man moved first; standing, he pulled Steve towards the small cot. The taller man eagerly followed, clumsily kicking off his boots as they went.

Tony sat slowly, removing his own boots and pants, eyes glued to Steve as he shed his pants. The dark haired man bit back a chuckle; he would have laughed at the silly, plain boxers, but he was wearing the same thing.

The bigger man crawled onto the cot next to him, tangling limbs together, mindful of Tony's bandaged shoulder. It was the first time they had been naked like this; Steve finally understood why Tony had never removed his shirt before when they were intimate.

The last twelve hours had been a rush of tangled emotions for both men. Now, with the truth out in the open, they both felt that unacknowledged, ever-present tension slowly melt away.

Steve traced large hands down paths of lean muscle, tugging off Tony's boxers. Grabbing the smaller man's erection, he tugged it firmly, swallowing the hitching gasp with a bruising kiss. Gathering his wits, Tony returned the favor and pushed Steve's boxers off. At last they lay pressed together, side-by-side on the cot, leisurely jacking each other off, swallowing moans with sloppy, wet kisses.

Tony pressed his lips to the warm neck, trailing kisses across the muscular chest, unable to get enough of the perfect man.

"Tony?" the soldier gasped out, arching his hips wantonly.

"Hmmm?" he moaned against the taut flesh.

"Can we, ummm… can we do more?"

The man from the future froze in his exploration, looking up into blue eyes.

Steve flushed red, sweetly innocent. "I, ummm… heard there is more…" he confessed in a whisper.

Tony groaned, the soft, hesitant voice doing all sorts of things to him. He looked at Steve for a long moment before kissing him hard. "You sure?" he mumbled.

The reply was a breathy, "Yes."

Given the green light, Tony shifted their position. He had no lube, didn't even have a flipping clue where he'd get lube in the 1940s, so he was going to have to improvise. Crawling across the perfect body beneath his, Tony pressed his fingers against the warm lips, shuddering when Steve sucked on them instinctively. At the same moment Tony swallowed the man's straining erection. Steve moaned loudly as Tony lavished attention on him, making sure to get him good and wet.

Steve tried to muffle his groans as he sucked hard at the fingers in his mouth, arching into Tony's hot, wet ministrations. Moments later the fingers were pulled away, though Tony was still sucking him deeply.

The dark haired man quickly moved the slick fingers, stretching himself. It had been a while since he'd had sex, and even longer since he'd been with a man. But the prospect of having sex with Captain America, the fantasy he'd been imagining since his own time, was coming true. He had never wanted anything so badly in his life.

With a final lap Tony let Steve pop free of his mouth as he moved to straddle his slim hips. Lustful blue eyes looked at up him with utter trust. Using his good arm to steady himself on the broad chest, Tony slowly lowered himself onto the well-endowed Captain. Baring his teeth, he hissed in pain as the muscle gave way and he slid slowly down, stretched to capacity.

Steve nearly came out of skin; that incredible, tight, wet heat was too much. "Tony…" he moaned, watching that beloved face contort above him. The older man paused as he panted, trying to adjust to the intrusion. As Steve raised himself on his elbows to kiss the firm lips, Tony shifted in his lap, the sudden movement causing the pair to gasp in pleasure.

"Fuck, Steve…" Tony mumbled, biting kiss swollen lips. He shifted his hips again as the pain lessened, replaced by overwhelming pleasure.

They started slowly moving against one another, building momentum. Steve collapsed back on the cot, gripping Tony's muscular hips hard enough to bruise. The room echoed with the creak of cot springs, labored breaths, and the sounds of sweat-slicked bodies bumping and grinding together.

The angle changed as Tony shifted, Steve hitting his sweet spot every time. Shuddering, his mind turned to mush and his body trembled, aching for release. "Steve, oh God, yes…" he hissed.

The blond felt the now familiar coil in his belly as he gazed up at the man riding him. He wanted to remember this moment always – the dark hair sweaty, the white gauze around his muscular shoulder, the blue glow of metal in his chest, bright and alive, the steady rhythmic clink of his tags as he moved.

Tony grew impossibly tight, crying out as he came, spilling hotly across the muscular body under him. Steve ground his teeth; moaning low, he thrust once more, as deep as he could, filling his lover.

Panting Tony collapsed onto the wide chest, body still thrumming in pleasure. Big hands were running up and down his back soothingly.

"Tony?" Steve asked, still a little winded.

Sated and utterly spent, Tony could barely manage a grunt.

"After we rest, Lieutenant Starling, I'm going to give you hell for digging that bullet out of your own shoulder and then hiding the wound from your commanding officer."

Pulling back, Tony looked at him with shocked eyes before a smile crossed his face, "Sir, yes, sir."

-#-#-#-

Steve woke with a moan, his orgasm hot and hard, soaking pajama pants. He lay panting in his bed, every nerve ending firing in pleasure. The dream had been so vivid. No, not a dream – a memory.

He could remember Tony's quiet confession to him in the lab; the man who'd captured his heart so completely was from the future.

He moaned, cradling his aching head; it all seemed so fresh. He could still remember the feeling of awed surprise, bordering on disbelief. But more than the confusion, Steve remembered afterwards – Tony moving above him, the sweet moans of ecstasy…

He felt himself growing hard all over again. Jamming a hand down his already wet bottoms, Steve Rogers jerked himself to release, visions of Tony Stark in his mind.


	11. Lost Time

Author's Note: Newly beta'd and looking good thanks ravingbeauty for the work. Little warning for slight dubious consent.

Man Out of Time

Part 11 – Lost Time

Tony waited apprehensively for the plane to land, his heart heavy, stomach in knots. Since that first nearly disastrous mission, Tony had been readily welcomed into the Howling Commandos and now regularly ran operations with them.

This last one, however, he had decided not to go along. He knew full well that if he had, he would have done something incredibly stupid – like tell Steve that Bucky would be lost in the mountains. So he had stayed silent and begged off this operation citing his work in the lab. All the while, though, his conscience was eating him alive.

Sad dark eyes watched as the plane touched down. The Commandos disembarked, solemn and drawn. Tony didn't need to ask; their faces said it all. They passed Tony with small, sad smiles before disappearing to seek solace where they could. The last to exit was Steve.

The tall figure seemed hunched, but his eyes were dry as he spotted Tony across the landing pad. Those endless blue eyes gave him a cold, hard look before turning away.

It hurt Tony more than he would have thought possible; still, deep down, he knew he deserved it. Closing his eyes in pain, he sagged and began dragging himself back to the lab, too much of a coward to confront the man.

-#-#-#-

Tony stared unseeing at the device in his hands.

It was a completed time machine – a much smaller, handheld version of the original, but made to the specifications of its inventor. Now the only thing he needed was a power source – he could go home.

So why didn't he?

His work was done; Steve was safe and history was unfolding as it should. Tony was no longer needed. He could have left, could have saved himself the heartache of seeing the man he loved lose his best friend. Yet Tony hesitated… hesitated because he couldn't bear to leave Steve.

"I can't get drunk," a familiar voice said from the doorway, sounding uneven and rough. "I've tried."

Tony turned slowly to face the man. Steve leaned heavily against the doorframe, a mostly empty bottle of Scotch in one hand. He was wearing his dress uniform, but was more rumpled and disheveled than Tony had ever seen him. He pushed off the frame and slowly moved towards the inventor.

Tony held his silence.

"I lost my best friend… but I think you knew that."

There were few times Tony had ever seen Steve genuinely angry – when he'd first awoken from the deep freeze and found out Fury had played him, when they had argued over the death of Coulson, when Tony had flown that warhead into the alien ship. Right now, though, he was angrier than Tony had ever seen him.

As the blond stepped closer, Tony was able to smell the alcohol on him. Steve was within inches of him now, face distorted with rage and sorrow. "Why didn't you tell me, warn me… anything?" Steve rasped out. "I could have saved him."

Tony kept a straight face, though his heart was breaking in his chest, and met Steve's gaze evenly. As he looked back into the dark eyes, Steve clenched his jaw then abruptly lashed out, his fist connecting hard with Tony's face.

Tony's head snapped to the side as he tumbled from the stool. He shook his head to clear it and winced, jaw already aching. Still Tony said nothing as he slowly stood. Righting himself, he faced the larger man, hands at his side. He deserved this. Every bit of it. If it helped, Steve could hit him as much as he liked.

"Why, Tony?" Steve cried as he grabbed him by the shoulders tightly. Gripping hard enough to bruise, he shook him, "Why?"

Sorrowful brown eyes looked into Steve's helplessly. What could he say? That Bucky's death was important? That it would strengthen Steve's resolve to defeat Hydra, ultimately leading to his long sleep under ice?

Tony thought Steve was going to hit him again.

Surprised when harsh lips descended on his, demanding and unyielding, Tony submitted willingly. Rough hands ripped at the shorter man's pants as Steve easily lifted him, backing him up against the wall. A strong hand fisted in his dark hair, pulling his head back, exposing his throat.

Then Steve was pushing his own pants down to his thighs as Tony kissed him back fervently, trying to convey the feelings he couldn't voice. He tried to relax as demanding fingers entered him, barely stretching him before Steve was pressing in, hot and painful.

Tony bit the inside of his mouth to keep from yelling out. Despite the pain, he was hard and straining, distantly surprised he was so turned on by the domination.

Steve wasn't thinking straight; losing Bucky had been devastating. All the way home he'd swung between sorrow at the loss and guilt at his secret relief that it hadn't been Tony. It was tearing him up inside, and when he'd seen the man he loved looking at him so sadly, so knowingly, something in him had broken.

Now, here in the lab, Steve snapped his hips forward and bit roughly at Tony's shoulder, prompting a cry of pain from the smaller man. As he thrust again, Steve twisted a hand harder in the dark hair and yanked his head back, allowing Steve to suck harshly at the warm flesh and mark the man as his.

Tony's head was swimming as Steve took him violently against the wall. He gripped the blond hair like a lifeline. "Steve," he panted as he arched back into the thrusts, the blunt head of the soldier's erection hitting him square on. The man from the future didn't last long; with a cry he came hard, Steve's name on his lips.

Grunting, the blond thrust once more before he, too, tumbled over the edge, mumbling Tony's name. Panting, Steve sagged against his lover. Eyes suddenly burning, he buried his face against the warm skin of Tony's shoulder and finally allowed his tears to fall.

Tony was pulled from his post orgasmic bliss abruptly as he felt the hot tears against his skin. Steve was still buried deep inside him as Tony wrapped his arms and legs around the other man, holding him tightly. Kissing the soft hair, Tony mumbled meaningless apologies; nothing he could say would stop the hurt.

Steve gave reign to his sorrow for long moments before he pulled away to look at Tony, tear tracks still visible across his cheeks. His blue eyes widened slowly as he froze; Tony was disheveled, a dark bruise already forming on his jaw. Steve could see love bites marring the skin he had worried and the deep, angry welt on Tony's shoulder.

Gasping Steve pulled away, noticing Tony wince in pain as he slipped out of him. "Tony, I'm… I'm so sorry…" What had he done? Stricken, his breathing became erratic as he backed away, eyes wide.

"No, Steve… it's fine, really." Tugging his pants back up, Tony took a limping step towards the soldier, ignoring his aching body's protests.

"Tony, I…" Steve trailed off; he couldn't even bear to think the word. Like some animal, he had– his mind rebelled at the very thought.

"Steve!" Tony gripped his arms. "Look at me, Steve," he commanded, and the man looked up at him slowly, ashamed. "You didn't, and I enjoyed it."

Surprised, Steve blinked at him a moment as he processed the words, "You liked it?""

Chuckling, the smaller man gestured to his stained shirt, "Yeah, guess I have a thing for domination. Didn't really know that." He smiled wistfully; what fun he'd been missing…

Steve stepped toward him hesitantly, "I'm so sorry, Tony… I was upset."

Nodding, the smaller man took Steve's hands and pulled him close enough to look into his eyes. "You have every right to be upset. There is nothing I can say that will make it any easier, but believe me when I say I know exactly how you feel."

He pulled Steve close and moved them to his small cot. Eventually the soldier relaxed enough to lay his head against Tony's chest, listening to the beat of his heart coupled with the soft mechanical hum of his chest. Tony kissed the blond hair softly, closing his eyes in sorrow, already thinking of what was coming next. Events were already in motion, spiraling forward.

Tony Stark wished with all his heart that he could stop what was about to happen.

-#-#-#-

Things were moving fast.

In the days following Bucky's death Steve seemed to find a grim resolve, a determination to end Hydra, if for no other reason than revenge.

For Tony it was a time of conflicting emotions; he had been in the past for a year and a half. It had been life altering. This jump through time had been both a blessing and curse, but he would never regret it.

"You're thinking an awful lot," the deep voice of his lover spoke so close to his ear. His voice never failed to send chills down Tony's spine.

"Sorry, just a lot on my mind," Tony replied over the din of the pub.

They had followed the rest of the men out tonight. Tony was in the mood to have maybe one too many drinks to silence the turmoil in his heart and mind. He was standing at a crossroads, and it was time to make a decision. Moodily he stared at his tepid, half empty pint, wondering if he had the courage to change the past.

Beside him Steve glanced around the noisy pub, eyes watching with some jealously as couples danced close on the floor, laughing happily. Why couldn't he and Tony have that? It didn't seem fair.

"Tony, in the future… is it friendlier?" Steve asked as he sat on the next stool over, oddly contemplative, his beer barely touched.

"How do you mean?" Tony asked curiously.

The soldier blushed and looked away. "You said once that it wasn't a sickness. I was wondering if it's because in the future…" he trailed off, looking hopeless.

Tony glanced to the crowded dance floor, understanding dawning as he saw the couples pressed cheek to cheek. At that moment he wanted more than anything to pull the other man into his arms. "Yes, it is," he answered softly, staring into those sad, beautiful eyes. "Gay men can even marry one another. No need to hide who you are."

Steve looked overwhelmed. "M-marry? That would be something to see," he said, glancing away, looking lost in thought once more.

Tony had to bite his tongue, wanting to tell Steve that he would see it for himself.

They sat in silence a while longer as the noise rose around them. The sounds of a crowded English pub became a distant roar as they sat side by side, lost in a world of their own. Then some of their men charmed the ladies onto the floor, laughing and flirting as they danced. Tony's dark eyes didn't miss the wistful look on the soldier's face as he watched the others.

"I'm sure one of the ladies would love to dance with Captain America," he offered.

"I don't know how," he quietly confessed.

A dark brow arched, "How come?"

Broad shoulders shrugged, "Hard to when you look like I did. Then the war happened and it didn't seem so important any more." Steve gazed unseeingly across the pub as he continued, "Someone said once that perhaps I had not yet found the right partner." He looked to Tony then, a wealth of emotion in those blue eyes, "I think I have, I'm just not allowed."

It felt like his chest was caving in. The man from the future barely restrained himself from grabbing that big hand, pulling him close. He wanted to promise Steve the moon, promise forever, promise whatever he wanted most. Instead, for now, Tony settled for a dance. "Steve, I promise you we will have that dance."

He got a soft, sad smile in return; Steve looked very much like he wanted to believe him.

Turning away from the couples now, Captain America sipped his beer, his mood heavy and reflective. To his companion it looked as though the blond had made some sort of decision. "That small machine you've been working on the last few days," Steve began slowly, purposely staring at his drink.

Tony froze, glass halfway to his lips; he'd been dreading this question. Closing his eyes, he swallowed a fortifying gulp. "It's a time machine," he spoke quietly, hesitantly. "A way home."

Steve finally looked at him, face neutral, not betraying a single emotion. "They need you, don't they? In your time," Steve asked, though it was more of a statement.

Tony blinked, his mouth opening and closing. "Yeah… Well, at least I hope they need me," his jest fell flat.

Steve gave him a half-smile, "I knew you would have to go back the moment you told me you were from the future. I guess I was hoping…" he shook his head, looking desolate. He was being silly; Tony had to go back to his own time. There was no future for him here. There was no future for _them_. He had thought he was ready for this moment, to let the man he loved go. Apparently he'd been very wrong.

Tony didn't have the faintest clue what to say. He'd spent his entire life talking too much, and now, when it really counted, he couldn't find the words. Frustrated, he looked away from Steve's pleading eyes; they were asking him for something, for everything, for a promise. Christ, he wanted to promise Steve everything. He couldn't tell Steve what he needed to hear so desperately, though. Tony had never felt so powerless in his life.

"Is there… is there someone waiting for you?" Steve stared across the bar, face drawn, refusing to meet Tony's eyes.

Tony started at the question. Had he really asked that? Steve was giving him no quarter, demanding honesty. He nodded slowly. "I hope there is someone waiting for me," Tony confessed softly, wanting to bang his head against the bar when he saw the look of hurt and betrayal on that beloved face. The raw emotion was only visible for a heartbeat before it was closed off, and Steve was Captain America again, a man with a job to do.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Steve confessed. Before Tony could reply, though, the bigger man was standing, looking anywhere but at him.

"I, umm… I…" Steve glanced into the dark eyes once, the pain he saw there threatening to swamp him. "Goodbye, Tony," he said, turning on his heel and all but running out of the pub.

Anthony Stark watched him go, stricken, but the crowd took no notice of the hasty departure or the rather despondent man left alone at the bar. Clasping trembling hands on the scarred wood before him, Tony confessed quietly, "It's you, Steve. I hope it's you waiting for me."

-#-#-#-

Steve wiped tears from his eyes. His heart was breaking as he looked, unseeing, across the New York skyline; it was hauntingly familiar, yet so different in this time and place.

He could still smell the stale beer and cigarette smoke of the pub, see the couples laughing and dancing, recall the heartwrenching confession. He had asked a question that night and had received his answer. Tony hoped there was someone waiting for him here in this time. It had been the answer he was dreading, and now he had it.

Yet Steve couldn't bring himself to be mad at the brilliant man, no – because Tony had been with him. However brief their time together was, Tony had been all his; and he would always be Tony's, in the past and the future.

His heart broke a little more as he closed his eyes, leaning his overheated forehead against the large glass widow.

"Cap, you ok?" Natasha's soft voice cut through his self-pity as she looked at him with concern. "What is it? What's wrong?" She stepped closer, worried when she saw the tears falling from his blue eyes.

Steve took a shaky breath and looked out across that dismal night, "Tony's coming home."


	12. Out of Time

Author's Note: Getting closer to get this all done up and beta'd thanks for all the patience, and

Man Out of Time

Part 12 – Out of Time

It was a stupid idea.

Probably the most dangerous, most idiotic thing he could think up. But as he ran towards the transport, Tony could honestly say he had never felt better about a decision. His booted feet beat out a rhythmic pattern as he rounded the corner, dashing for the plane. The attendants were about to pull the gangway up as he raced on, making it by the skin of his teeth.

Doubled over and panting, he tossed the Commandos a salute as they called out to him; they'd been worried he'd been forced to stay behind again. Steve, though, gave him no more than a glance and turned away, focusing on the window at his side.

Tony tried to ignore the hurt as he settled down nearby, his pack clinking a bit too loudly as it hit the metal floor. Nervously his hand dipped into a pocket to feel the warmth of the small device. He absently worried the contraption as his thoughts began to catch up with him; the last several hours were a blur.

"_Howard, do you still have those distilled fragments Cap brought back?" _

_Howard looked up from his work, smiling in welcome at the older man, "Yes, they're over here." He gestured for Tony to follow, then watched curiously as Tony loaded a small contraption with a single glowing shard. "What is that?" Howard asked, amazed as the device closed around it, now pulsing faintly with a blue light. _

"_If I told you I'd have to kill you," Tony said with a smirk and carefully tucked the machine away. Satisfied, he turned to leave. Then he paused and turned back to the inventor, slowly extending a callused hand. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Howard," he said softly, genuinely meaning it. _

_Blinking in surprise, the younger man took the offered hand and shook it firmly, "You as well, Starling." The men smiled at one another and Tony turned to go. Just as he was about to step through the door, he was stopped by Howard's voice, "You're a curious man, Starling. I think there is more to you than you say." _

_Dark eyes glanced over his shoulder at the man who would one day be his father, a half smile tugging at his lips, "I think I get that from my father." _

With the time machine ready, Tony had packed his suit in record time and chased down Captain America. He had a very specific mission in mind. Now, as they flew across the channel, Tony Stark closed his eyes, the weight of his choice firmly settling on his shoulders.

He had every intention of breaking the cardinal rule of time travel.

He was going to change the past.

-#-#-#-

"He said what?" Bruce looked up from his notes, eyes wide.

Natasha repeated, "He said Tony was coming home."

The dark haired man was still for a heartbeat before he whooped in excitement, "He's figured it out! That crazy son of a bitch figured out time travel."

Tasha blinked, shocked, as the normally placid man kissed her soundly on the lips.

Pulling back he laughed crazily, "He's figured it out!" Still laughing Bruce hurried out of the lab, leaving a bemused Black Widow smiling in his wake.

-#-#-#-

"Come on, please… please…" Tony begged, pushing himself and his suit beyond endurance, racing to catch the wildly careening plane.

Like the others, Tony had followed Captain America to the base. He'd been just in time to catch the epic showdown between Hydra and the Cap, the culmination of which had been Steve rather dramatically hitching a ride on the plane bound to destroy New York.

Prepared for this, he'd hurried to strap on his suit and give chase. He had just enough power to see this through to the end.

Diving after the falling craft, Tony managed to get a hold of the emergency hatch and tear it open. Fighting to stay upright as the plane dipped precariously to one side, he immediately made for the cockpit, bypassing the bodies that littered the floor; time was short. Grunting with effort, he made his way to the front of the plane and ripped the door completely off the hinges. Once inside he spotted Captain America immediately.

Tony felt his chest tighten; there was no turning back now.

The soldier gamely held tight to the controls. At the sound of the door coming away from its hinges, he glanced over his shoulder and did a double take; it was the man in the iron armor from the woods.

"What are you…" the Captain trailed off as hands reached up and pulled away the helmet, revealing a very familiar face underneath. "Tony?" his jaw dropped as he looked between the other man and the rapidly approaching ice.

"Look, Steve, no time to explain," Tony hurried forward and knelt beside him. "Listen to me, Steve, I can… I can save you. In this suit I can get you to safety."

Blue eyes looked at him slowly, reading his face in a glance. "That's not how this is supposed to end, is it?" he said softly as he turned back to the growing expanse of snow and ice.

Tony shifted, glancing at the endless white as well. "No, it's not," he confessed helplessly as a slow, sad smile pulled at Steve's lips.

"Tony, this is how it has to be."

Swallowing hard, Tony closed his dark eyes. "You don't understand," he tried to explain. "Steve, you can stay here with your friends, live your life in this time. If you go down with this plane, you'll be trapped in ice for seventy years."

Desperate now, Tony grabbed a strong arm, willing him to understand, "I can change that, I can save you." He searched those endless blue eyes, "It was you, Steve. The reason I came back in time was you."

Steve felt the breath hitch in his chest. He was scared, yes, but Tony... He resolutely cut off the thought, "Tony, you need to go now. You need to go back."

Tony closed his eyes in pain, "Steve, please."

Time was running out.

The soldier turned to press a kiss to his mouth, harsh and quick. "Go," he commanded, softening the order with grin. "I will see you again, Anthony Stark."

Tony returned the hasty kiss, "I promise you will." Standing, he snapped his mask back on and started to leave the cockpit, but was unable to resist one last glance. The proud figure was still at the controls, iconic shield strapped to his back as he aimed the plane into the ice.

"Goodbye for now, man out of time," Steve called, a faint smile on his features.

Tony knew this moment would be indelibly imprinted on his mind. His breath hitched as he tore himself away and hurried toward the exit; he was out of time. Pulling out the small device, he threw himself out of the plane, suit dark and silent as the power failed him completely.

Freefalling, he held the device close and swallowed thickly, "Christ, I hope this works, or I'll end up in the ice with the Cap." As the water rushed towards him, he hit the button, and suddenly bright light surrounded him, his insides pulled out and dunked in ice water.

-#-#-#-

"I don't understand," Fury said flatly, staring at Doctor Banner across the conference table.

The others were gathered around as well – Clint looked bored, Natasha seemed hopeful, and Steve dozed, much as he had for the week past. Thor was greatly interested in whole thing, continually asking questions of Clint while Fury and Banner butted heads. Recently returned from Asgard, Thor was still catching up on the details of Tony's jump through time.

Frustrated, Bruce tried again, "We've been able to track what has been happening in the past through Steve's memories, dreams, and drawings. Tony is altering Steve's past, so every time Tony does something, Steve knows about it; and Steve says Tony's made a time machine." There was a ringing silence as they all seemed to absorb the information.

Fury sat back heavily in his chair, rubbing his temples, "I hate to say it, but if anyone could build a time machine, it would be him."

Steve Rogers, who up until that moment had spent his whole week in a daze, sat up straight; the fog in his mind began to lift as memories of the past crystallized, vividly bright for a moment then fading. He inhaled sharply, recalling the moments before he plunged into that ice.

Tony's words echoed in his mind.

"_It was you, Steve. The reason I came back in time was you." _

The others turned to look at him, worried by his abrupt movement.

"He's back," Steve murmured.

Seconds later a frantic agent skidded to a halt inside the door, "Sir, we just picked up a tesseract signal."

Fury rounded on him, "Where?"

The man tapped the tablet in his hands, "In Belgium, sir."

Banner just grinned, "It's him."

-#-#-#-

"Ow, ow," Tony moaned, trying not to move too quickly.

Everything hurt.

"Time travel sucks," he muttered as he carefully rolled to a stand. His armor was all but falling off his frame; it had definitely seen better days. Tugging his helmet away, he breathed deep and glanced around. Nothing looked familiar.

"Well, shit." Tony sighed and looked down at the device, now dark and benign, still clenched in one armored hand. Had it even worked? The small counter read 2013, but damned if he knew where or when he was.

Grumbling, he stripped off what little of his suit remained. Running a hand through dark locks, Tony bent to brush himself off, a fruitless endeavor as he was still in his dirty uniform and boots. He had gone dressed for battle, shedding only his helmet and gun before pulling on the armor.

Tony shoved his hands in his pockets and looked upward, closing his eyes as the warm sun hit his face. "At least it's peaceful," he said to himself. He wasn't sure how long he stood in the quiet green field with only the sound of birds and wind around him. It seemed like ages since he'd had a quiet moment like this. Smiling wistfully, he chuckled; it had been 70 years…140 if you counted both ways.

Just thinking about it made his head ache.

Then the peace of the afternoon was interrupted by the sound of a jet. Shielding his eyes, Tony felt his heart lift at the appearance of the technology he used to take for granted.

"That's a sight for sore eyes," he muttered. He didn't move, though; he barely dared breathe lest this all turn out to be some desperate dream. Like the world had been dipped in molasses, time seemed to slow as the jet landed, flattening the grass around it.

Then time lurched forward again as the back opened and the Avengers tumbled out. Tony had never been happier to see that ragtag bunch of misfits than he was at that moment – Clint, Natasha, Bruce, hell, even Thor… but the one he wanted to see most came last. The still stunning blond looked just as handsome as he did when Tony had last seen him, driving that plane into the ice. His breath caught and an ache began in his chest.

Steve was having a hard time catching his breath, too. It was Tony, looking like he had in 1944 as they stormed that Hydra base. He looked a little older than Steve remembered, weary, but still just as handsome and strong as ever.

He joined the crowd around the dark haired man where the others had gathered to shake his hand, clap him on the back, or, in Thor's case, hug him tightly.

"Easy, easy, time travel is hard on a guy," Tony joked, which ignited a flurry of questions.

Steve remained silent, his gaze fixed on that beloved face, and their eyes met briefly over the heads of the others. The dark eyes gave him a tender look before Bruce claimed his attention again.

-#-#-#-

It was a whirlwind of chaos getting Tony back to headquarters; everyone wanted answers. Bruce was talking to Tony a mile a minute as they landed on base and the medical staff was already standing by with a wheelchair. Tony waved them off, but the doctors insisted.

Steve followed the crowd and listened to Tony, feeling foolish and fluttery for being so happy just to hear him speak.

"So you're saying I've only been gone a week here?" Tony asked, a stunned look on his face, like he was having trouble getting his mind around it.

As they moved down the broad corridors the super soldier could hear the familiar tattoo of military issue boots on steel. And despite all the noise around them, Steve could make out the sound unique to the man himself – the clink of metal dog tags on the arc reactor.

"Yes, how long was it for you?" Bruce asked eagerly.

Tony paused, frowning, eyebrows drawing together, "A year and a half."

The doctor was fascinated. "We figured the timelines weren't running parallel when Steve started drawing dif-" he broke off abruptly as they reached medical. The doctors, eager to check over the man out of time, swarmed around and started to tug off his outer shirt.

Without thinking Tony lashed out, clipping one man in the jaw and dropping another with a kick to the knee. Hand automatically settling protectively on his chest, he dropped to a defensive crouch. The others, too stunned to move, just watched in disbelief.

Only Steve moved. Hurrying forward, he dropped to his knees, eye level with Tony. The wild dark eyes finally focused on the comforting blue. A big hand reached out to Tony's and smooth over his dirty, scabbed knuckles comfortingly, "You're safe here," he whispered. "You don't have to hide."

Tony focused on him, wanting to say so much – but here, in the SHIELD medical bay with an audience, was neither the time nor the place. He offered Steve a hesitant smile and allowed his hand to fall away. He straightened slowly, muttering something that may have been an apology, as Steve stepped away to allow the medical staff access.

"Wow, Stark got some moves," Tasha commented, clearly impressed. Instead of responding, the genius just gave her a look and continued to shrug out of his overshirt. Steve watched as a grimy t-shirt was removed next, followed by the white tank top.

"How many layers you wearing, Stark?" Clint teased. This time, though Tony didn't bother responding; Steve shot the archer a look.

Tony, nude from the waist up, watched the circling white coats warily.

The big blond heard a gasp from behind him; Natasha was staring in openmouthed surprise at the partially nude man.

Tony, noticing the looks form the others, glanced down and went on the defensive, "Ok, I haven't showered in a couple of days. In my defense it's difficult to shower when you're trying to keep your mechanical inlay from being discovered."

Bruce was the first to shake off his shock; Tony hadn't been out of shape by any means when he'd left. Now though, there wasn't an ounce of fat on the man. He was lean, cut, and looked deadly wiry.

Steve frowned. He didn't like the look Tasha was giving him, her eyes eating Tony up.

"Most impressive, Man of Iron." Thor commented with a smile. "It would appear time travel has agreed with you."

Shaking his head, Tony sat and allowed himself to be poked and prodded as the doctors took blood and checked him over.

Steve stood silently by and watched his lover, images overlapping in his mind. He had seen Tony shirtless a time or two before the incident, but he knew the Tony now before him intimately. He could see the puckered scar on his shoulder, a reminder of the wound that had nearly killed him. There was a stab wound from another mission along Tony's side, where recognized his own stitches; Steve had sewn him up as they kissed and touched, not more than a few feet away from the men.

Fascinated, Tony watched as Steve blushed red and looked away; he was dying to know what the other man was thinking. "You were talking about Steve's drawings?" Tony directed the conversation back to the topic at hand and away from his body.

Bruce nodded, explaining how they were able to follow the events of the past through Steve's drawings as the timeline was altered. Tony listened carefully as the scientist walked him through the events on their end.

When Tony was finished in medical and dressed once more, the group headed for the conference room, anticipation running high. Fury was waiting for answers and the others were wildly curious. As they settled around the table, Steve sat beside Tony, unable to help himself. Nervous and excited, he focused on the man intently; he'd been waiting to hear this story since 1944.


	13. Test of Time

Author's Note: Thanks ravingbeauty almost sad this is coming to an end.

Man Out of Time

Part 13 – Test of Time

Steve was sorely disappointed.

He had wanted to hear the whole story, but what he got was a ten-minute, facts only brief.

As Tony spoke, Fury looked at him with the nearest thing to astonishment he had ever shown. "So you followed a man through a rift in time to stop four assassination attempts on the Captain?"

Tony nodded, "Yup." The assassination attempts were news to Steve, who kept staring at the man beside him in shock.

"Why were they trying to kill the Captain?" Fury asked, genuinely curious.

"Standard line, 'for the Fuehrer' and all. The crazy fuck I followed through said it had something to do with the 'abomination of a science experiment gone wrong.' It was all very cliché and boring. Not the most well thought out assassination plan, to be honest," he said, the last part more to himself than the others.

Tony could feel Steve tense beside him; gently, expression never changing, Tony reached out to take his hand under the table. As he ran a callused thumb gently over the tightly clenched fist, Steve loosened his grip; half smiling. Steve gripped the hand tightly and chanced a glance at the man beside him. Tony was still staring at Fury, but there was a hint of a smile around his mouth.

"So how did you get back?" the Director asked, leaning forward as he reached the crux of the conversation.

Tony looked at him as if he was stupid, "I built a time machine."

Sighing, Fury sat back, "Which I assume is now somewhere in 1944?"

Tony said nothing, face impassive. There was a brief battle of wills as both men squared off, each willing the other to back down. This round went to Tony.

"Well, you made it back and the Captain is still here…" Fury trailed off.

Tony grinned, "Is that a job well done, Director?"

Halfway out the door, Director Fury paused, "Don't push it, Stark."

With Fury gone, Tony rounded on Bruce, "There was a man working the machine when I went through."

Bruce nodded, "Yeah, Doctor Broker. He claims he was commissioned to build it. Fury has him and his machine down in Sector 4 trying to recreate the whole process, but you need-"

The engineer waved a hand dismissively, thoughtfully mumbling, "Distilled tesseract."

Across the table Clint gave a wide yawn, "Well, if the excitement's over, I think I'll head back." Standing, he wandered around the table to give Tony a clap on the back, "Never thought I'd say it, Stark, but I kind of missed having you around." A dark brow arched, amused, as the grinning archer turned and headed out, "By the way, Thor broke the TV and the Wii again."

Chuckling, Tony watched as the Asgardian prince turned red in the face. "Disgraceful comrade!" he bellowed, giving Tony a sheepish look before following Clint out.

Natasha was next, tossing Tony a wink that had him blinking in shock, "Leave this place a week it all goes to hell in a handbasket."

Bruce laughed. "I need to get some rest, too. It's been a stressful week," he grinned at his friend. "We're glad to have you back, Tony, and so is the big guy." With that he was gone, leaving Steve and Tony alone in the conference room.

Tension hung heavy in the room as Tony turned to look at the big blond; Steve was looking anywhere but at him. The dark haired man silently waited him out, though, and when those blue eyes finally landed on him, he captured them effortlessly.

Leaning forward, Tony kissed him harshly, passionately, like a drowning man. He could still see the soldier driving that damned plane into the ice. It was hot and intense and Tony had to stop before they passed the point of no return.

Panting, he leaned his forehead against the blond's, "We have a lot to talk about, but right now are you up for a mission?"

Dazed and flushed, Steve smiled slowly; he could deny Tony nothing.

Standing, Tony grabbed the big man's hand, entwining their fingers as they navigated towards the elevators.

Steve waited until they were headed down, "What's the mission? Should I get my suit?"

Tony glanced at his companion, who was wearing dark denim jeans and a plain white t-shirt under his plaid button-down. Tony would never again make fun of his clothes; the 1940s had grown on him. "Nah, you don't need your suit. We're just going to go give Doctor Broker some harsh truths."

Confused, Steve followed Tony into the lab that housed SHIELD's latest acquisition. It was all but empty at this late hour, save for one man frantically riffling through papers, muttering under his breath.

Tony stepped into the room, Steve at his back offering silent support. "Doctor Broker," Tony greeted him, voice calm and smooth. The man froze, turning slowly; he was small and wiry, with the face of a spotty youth. "Or should I say von Broker?"

The last time Steve had seen the man he'd been crying and pleading for his life; there was no trace of that man now, though.

Bright blue eyes were hard as flint as his face twisted into something angry and hate filled. "Stark," he spat, eyes roving across the approaching figures. Something flickered briefly in those cold eyes. "How did you…" he trailed off, looking angry once more.

"How did I get back? Well, that's a story," Tony casually walked towards the man. "You see, I met a rather angry white supremacist at a hidden Hydra munitions factory in 1943. Imagine my surprise when I found not only a machine looking a hell of lot like this one, but also the journal of one Doctor Hans von Broker."

Broker didn't move, didn't blink.

Steve crossed his arms and looked curiously between the two men.

Tony leaned a hip on a workbench, focusing all his attention on the scientist, "So, what I want to know is why, Doctor."

The skinny man frowned, "Why what?"

Sighing, Tony rubbed his temples, "We're going to play this game? Fine. You weren't commissioned to build this machine. You did it yourself, and then got your anti-Semite friend to do your dirty work. The question is why?" The silence stretched out, Steve wondering if the man would indeed answer Tony.

Finally he smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant one, "How'd you figure it out?"

Tony snorted, insulted, "The calculations alone are not for the faint of heart. There is no way some outsider could be commissioned to build such a complex machine."

"You did," the youth pointed out.

Tony grinned, holding his hands askew, "I'm no ordinary man."

Snorting, the doctor crossed his arms, "Alright, Stark, I'll tell you. My grandfather Hans von Broker was a brilliant man. He discovered time travel, yet he died in utter obscurity." The man looked coldly furious.

"His work should have made him famous, guaranteed his spot in the annals of history, but no. Instead Doctor Erskine's lab rat is what history remembers. One anomaly and he's the one everyone strives to emulate."

Steve blinked, almost recoiling at the venom the man spewed at him. Tony stepped in front of him protectively, face hard as he let the man speak, holding his peace for the moment.

"Erskine was nothing! Grandfather deserved to be the one in the spotlight, so I built the machine. It doesn't take a lot to convince zealots they can change the course of history. There is no shortage of the stupid and easily manipulated."

He frowned then, "You, however, were an unforeseen variable in my calculations."

Tony smirked, "Yeah, I'm a pain in the ass that way."

Shaking his head, the man glanced around at his machine, "So now what, Stark? You'll lock me away in some jail where I'll rot?" Tony said nothing and stared at the man a long moment.

"I'm going to read you something," slowly Tony pulled out a small, worn journal. Steve recognized it instantly; he'd seen Tony writing in the book constantly.

"I destroyed your grandfather's personal notes, which is why you never had them. Couldn't have that kind of information falling in just anyone's hands. I did, however, make a note of his final entry."

Leafing through, he paused when he located the page. Steve glanced over his shoulder, surprised that Tony had copied the page in cursive. Clearing his throat, Tony started with the date, "June 11, 1943."

_This shall be my final entry, as I have made the decision to bury this project. I set out to see if it was possible to move through space and time; my results have been both wonderful and terrifying._

_I began with the very best of intentions, but as they say, 'the road to hell is paved with good intentions_.' _I wanted to study the past, to learn first hand, to try and understand where we failed as human beings to have created such horrors in this world._ _In this endeavor I have learned much about myself._

_The past is the past. What has happened was meant for a reason. For every mistake we make, there are brilliant innovations, and it is not for mortal man to decide which should remain. I would conclude this entry with a plea for the reader to destroy this journal and take away nothing but this singular truth: man is not meant to alter time._

"He ends it with his name," Tony concluded and closed the book, glancing across at the young Doctor Broker, who looked like he'd just been punched in the chest.

Broker sat heavily, trembling. "How do I know you're not making that up?" he asked shakily.

Tony shrugged, "I could be, but that's neither here nor there. As someone who has been to the past and back, let me tell you – it sucks, bro. Messes with your head like nobody's business."

The younger man just stared sullenly at his hands.

"Well," Tony announced, "my work's done here, crushing dreams and whatnot." Shoving his hands in his pockets, Tony Stark turned away from the young scientist. "You have the whole night to mull that over."

Steve, following closely, almost ran into his back when the dark haired man paused abruptly and spoke again to the young man, "We don't invent and create for recognition; we do it because somewhere, deep down, we still dream of creating a better world."

-#-#-#-

Tony sighed in utter bliss as he stood under the too hot water, cleaning every inch of his skin. Closing his eyes, he roughly lathered his face for about the sixth time.

It was weird being back in the Tower to say the least. He may have only been gone a week, but for him it been so much longer. He hadn't realized how acclimatized to the past he'd become until they'd been speeding across the bustling city, full of lights and noise, to his tower, which stood like a beacon in the center of the city. It made his head spin.

Reluctantly he got out of the shower and toweled off briskly before he tied the material around his waist. By chance he happened to catch his reflection in the large bathroom mirror; the man staring back caught him by surprise. "No wonder everyone was staring at me," he mumbled as he turned this way and that.

"Looking good, Stark," he flexed his back, watching the muscles bunch and ripple. "I know your secret now, Spangles." He paused, heart clenching, at the thought of the tall blond; he had unfinished business to attend to.

-#-#-#-

Down the hall Steve Rogers lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The normally painfully clean room was strewn with drawings. Some were in colour, some in charcoal, but all featured one man.

His mind in turmoil, the soldier took no notice of the mess. He moaned and threw an arm over his eyes. Seeing Tony again had been both exciting and heart wrenching. But there was still so much left unsaid and undone between them. The past and the future were colliding, and Steve felt like he was drowning.

A gentle knock roused him from his thoughts, "Steve?"

He sat up as the shorter man entered with a hesitant smile, dark hair wet, white t-shirt too tight across his chest, blue glow outlined on the taut material.

Steve felt his heart start to hammer; he ached to be close to the other man, but he was unsure. Throat contracting, he waited with baited breath as the smaller man carefully picked his way across the room.

Tony glanced at the drawings that littered the ground, amazed by the sheer number of them. He recognized some of the images – one of him eating the sandwich Steve had brought him in the small shed during basic, another of him in his dress uniform, face looking like raw hamburger. It was his whole year and half laid out in drawings.

"Wow, Steve," Tony muttered as he made his way to the bed and crawled onto it, settling beside the other man. Propping his back up against the foot of the bed, he looked at Steve, who was resting against the pillows opposite.

They regarded each other silently for a moment. Tony had promised him answers, but now Steve wasn't sure he wanted them. He was afraid of what he might say, might confess, and Steve didn't think his heart could take it. Yet Steve stayed, waiting, utterly besotted and feeling foolish because he just wanted to be close to Tony.

"I'm not sure where to start really," the charming dark haired man said with a half smile.

Steve could see a faded bruise on his jaw, the same one he'd given him two days before they left on that final mission. Dark eyes regarded him intently; Steve had always thought them mysterious and deep. The man he'd met that day at the Expo had been full of secrets.

"How about the beginning?" Steve suggested quietly.

Clearing his throat softly, Tony began, "So I started falling out of the night sky…"

Steve listened intently for hours, fascinated and amazed as the tale unfolded. He gasped in all the right places, was delighted at others. He burst out in unrestrained laughter when Tony scolded him for the grenade incident.

"It's not funny, Steve!" Tony continued, indignant. "Here I am putting all this effort into saving your spandexed ass and you go and throw yourself on a grenade. I was going to kill you. Legit, I was ready to smother you in your sleep." As he spoke the genius absently picked up one of Steve's bare feet, callused fingers slowly massaging. Steve didn't know whether Tony was aware he was doing it, but he enjoyed the attention nevertheless, sinking into the sensations as the story continued.

Tony explained the concept of the time paradox and how he'd tried to avoid changing anything for worry he'd change the future – including being unable to save Doctor Erskine. Steve's heart broke for the man, who paused in his ministrations, looking infinitely sad and haunted.

"I, ummm… I told him, when you took off after the man who shot him." Tony cleared his throat, voice suddenly husky, "I told him you were going to save the world." Steve wanted to cry with him, beginning to comprehend the full weight of the man's responsibility. The pain was something Tony had borne alone, but his story was only just beginning.

As he spoke softly and steadily, pieces began to fall into place. Some of the things Tony had said and did began to make sense. He spoke about following Steve on his first mission, meeting the man he'd chased through time, "I got caught in the blast of the factory going up, that's when you found me in the woods."

The super soldier smiled at him as a faint blush crept over his cheeks; he had curled in towards Tony, lying on his side.

Tony moved to massage his other foot as he continued speaking, "I cannot believe by the way, that you had a crush on Iron Man after meeting him once in the woods."

Steve flushed faintly, "I didn't. I just thought he was interesting."

Laughing outright, Tony shook his head and gave him an amused look.

As dawn began to peek over the horizon, the tale was coming to its end. Tony quietly told Steve about following the plane and using his time machine, returning once more to this time and place.

Tony was tired and his voice was hoarse, but the heaviness in his chest had been lifted. Yawning widely, he glanced toward the windows, "Talked the night away," he mumbled, smiling softly as his eyes grew heavier by the moment. He glanced to Steve, who gave him an inscrutable look. Tony fought to stay awake, but it seemed that all his energy had been sapped.

Leaning forward, Steve tenderly kissed his brow, "Sleep, Tony."

It sounded like damn fine idea to the dark haired man. He closed his eyes and was out seconds later.

Steve gently covered the man with his comforter. He should be tired as well, but he couldn't remember ever being more awake. After Tony's confessions his mind felt full. He needed to process, and the best way to do that was physical activity.

Moving off the bed, he grabbed his hoodie as he went. He paused at the door to look back at the lump in his bed, every fiber of his being crying out to crawl under the covers with him, cuddle close as they had on the small army cot in the past. Sighing, he ran a distracted hand through his hair before leaving silently so Tony could sleep.


	14. Time Goes By

Author's Note: Thanks ravingbeauty spectacular work and now only one more to go.

Man Out of Time

Chapter 14 – Time Goes By

Tony woke with a terrible kink in his neck. Moaning, he sat up, twisting this way and that. He glanced around the room, confused for a moment, then remembering he'd come to see Steve. The other man, though, was nowhere to be seen. Grumbling, he scrubbed at his eyes.

"Captain Rogers has gone to work, sir," JARVIS spoke aloud.

Tony leapt a foot off the bed, tangling in the sheets before hitting the floor. "Christ," he swore as he clutched his chest; he'd completely forgotten about the AI.

"Welcome home, sir. I understand you have been in the 1940s for some time."

If Tony didn't know any better, he would have thought the machine was laughing at him. Huffing, he stood and mustered what dignity he could. As he moved into the tower proper, he slowly looked around at the once familiar, now alien surroundings. "What time is it, JARVIS?" he asked.

"Two o'clock in the afternoon, sir,"

Tony grunted. It had been a while since he'd slept that well, despite his awkward position. He grabbed a cup of coffee in the kitchen and sipped it, absently pulling a face at the taste of the smooth premium blend; he was used to the toxic military issue sludge.

"My taste buds have been ruined," he moaned as he continued on to his lab, half-smiling. The door hissed open as he tapped in the code. The lights came up at once and the room began to hum to life.

He paused, suddenly overwhelmed; it felt like a lifetime since he'd been here.

Tony ran a hesitant hand across the computers, machines, and tools. "Miss me, boys?" he called out to DUM-E and Butterfingers as the bots beeped excitedly. Setting aside his coffee, he reached out slowly to touch a shimmering hologram, sending the image spinning. He flexed his fingers carefully; he felt rusty and odd, like he'd been out of it.

He shook his hands out before reaching out again, moving slowly at first, then gaining confidence. It was like riding a bike; his fingers had not forgotten their work. Smiling slowly, he called up screens, shuffled through files.

"Open up a new project, JARVIS," he directed the AI. "Top secret."

-#-#-#-

Across the city at SHIELD headquarters, Steve doubled over, panting as sweat dripped from his forehead.

Though he hadn't heard any footsteps, Tasha's boots appeared in his line of sight. "You've got a lot on your mind, Cap," she commented dryly.

He glanced up at her, straightening slowly with a shrug. Humming in disbelief, she moved to stand by his side, watching the new trainees try and follow the brutal pace the Captain had just set on the course.

"I don't think we got the whole story last night," the astute woman commented offhandedly. "Then again, I don't think it was really any of our business."

Steve said nothing. They stood together in silence a while longer before she turned to leave, but not without one final word. "I hope someone out there would be willing to travel through time for me."

Steve started; her words echoed his own thoughts with scary accuracy. He had come to a similar conclusion. He was being a coward, and one thing he had never been in his life was a coward. He loved Tony, plain and simple. He had loved Tony then and he loved Tony now.

He took a deep breath and tilted his chin up; he was going to lay all his cards on the table. He remembered Tony telling him once that, in his time, men were free to be with other men.

He was free to be himself now, to love whomever he chose.

And the only one he wanted was Tony.

-#-#-#-

"JARVIS, dinner reservations?"

"All ready, sir."

"Our little project?"

"It will be ready by end of the week, sir."

Tony grinned. He was sweaty, but elated things were coming together.

"Miss Potts is on the phone, sir," JARVIS informed him as he washed his hands.

"Miss Potts," Tony greeted, giving a genuine smile.

"Tony, oh my God! You gave me a scare!"

Laughing, he dried his hands, "What are you talking about? You run this company better than I ever have, and if I die or get trapped in another time, you'll get it all."

He heard her huff a small laugh, "I'm glad you're home, Mr. Stark."

"So am I, Pep," he said as he smiled to himself. "So am I."

She rattled on then, filling him in on what he'd missed the week past. "So, how was 1943?" she asked half teasingly.

Tony shrugged, leaning a hip on his workbench as he looked at the woman on the screen.

"You look good. Great, as a matter of fact." She ran an eye over him.

Tony shook his head, "Sorry, Pep, I'm a taken man."

An auburn brow arched, "Is your better half a blond super soldier from the past?"

Tony grinned, "Would you believe it if I told you I was about to do something incredibly out of character?"

She gave him a winning smile, "Tony, you've never done anything in half measures. I don't see why you should start now."

They said their goodbyes and Pepper made him promise to give her all the details. Out of habit, Tony gave her a small salute; she just about wet herself.

Rolling his eyes, Tony hurried up the stairs, timing it so he would run into Steve as he returned from work. "Steve," he greeted the soldier.

Steve smiled, "Tony."

Tony asked casually, "So, you busy tonight?" The blond shook his head slowly. "Good, we're going to dinner. I'll meet you in ten minutes."

Bright blue eyes lit up happily as he blushed, "Ok." Then he turned and hurried up the stairs, Tony hot on his heels.

Steve was ready in five minutes flat. Now clean and pressed, he was back downstairs and more excited than he could remember being. This date had been a long time coming. Waiting eagerly, he glanced over as he heard the elevator doors open for Clint and Natasha to step off.

"Looking good, Cap. What's the occasion?"

Grinning happily, he blushed faintly, "Dinner."

He missed the utterly evil smile Clint pulled, "Sounds great, I'm starved. Give me couple minutes to change. Tasha, you up for dinner?"

She frowned at the smaller man, ready to tell Clint off in no uncertain terms, when Thor, who had apparently overheard the conversation, seized upon the idea. "I, too, require sustenance!" he boomed.

Steve looked like a drowning man. This could not be happening.

-#-#-#-

Up in his room, Tony was having problems of his own.

His pants were too big, falling off his now slimmer hips. Grumbling, he managed to find a pair of jeans that he recalled being a little smaller. He had wanted to dress up; after all, it was a momentous occasion. He regretted not checking this out earlier, but he hadn't thought he'd lost this much weight.

Unfortunately the shirt issue was even worse. The shoulders were far too tight; he was barely able to get the buttons done up before he heard the rip of fabric, accompanied by the chill of cold air across his back.

"Fuck," he swore, rooting around in his closet, dog tags clinking. He ripped two more shirts before the lunacy of the situation struck him and he had to chuckle. Well past the ten-minute mark, he finally managed to find a white long-sleeve t-shirt that fit well enough, even if it was a little too tight. Over top he pulled on the only t-shirt that wasn't obscenely tight, a gag gift from Clint for his birthday – a blue shirt bearing Captain America's shield.

Running a hand through his dark hair, he checked himself out one last time. It was a lot more casual than he wanted, but he'd go with what he could. He would remedy the clothing situation tomorrow, he promised himself.

Hurrying from the room, he was halfway down the stairs, mid-apology, when he stalled seeing the crowd waiting by the elevator.

Steve looked at him pleadingly, and Clint… That smug smirk told him everything. He'd settle his hash before the night was over.

"Great idea, Stark, dinner to celebrate your return." The archer's grin dared him to refuse.

Sighing, Tony rolled his dark eyes skyward, "JARVIS, reservations for six."

Whooping in excitement, they headed for the elevator, all noise and chaos as they trooped towards the street. The night was young, warm for early summer, and the restaurant only a couple blocks away, so they opted to walk, laughing and joking.

Steve and Tony fell to the back of the pack. "I'm sorry," the tall blond mumbled.

Tony smiled placidly, "What did Dugan always say? God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…"

Steve smiled slowly, eyes misty and far away, "Courage to change the things I can,"

A callused hand slipped into his larger one, "And the wisdom to know the difference."

They smiled at one another, Steve squeezing Tony's hand. The super soldier's heart beat painfully in his chest; this was his Tony. From the 1940s to now the clothes had changed, but the man had not. If he hadn't already loved Tony more than anything, he would have lost his heart in that moment.

Dinner wasn't as bad as the genius had feared. It was actually rather fun. He had missed their little family, and through it all Steve was at his side, their hands joined under the table more often than not.

Still, it wasn't the intimate date he had pictured.

The billionaire footed the bill as usual and they headed out onto the street and home. Tony made a point to fall into step with Clint. "Enjoy your dinner?" he asked, smiling deceptively.

The assassin nodded, grinning like the cat that got the cream.

Tony's smile never changed as he caught Clint on the jaw with a solid left hook. As Tony knew firsthand, it would hurt like a bitch. He wasn't too worried about the archer, though; the man took a worse beating every time he sparred with Natasha.

Everyone stopped as Clint looked at him in stunned disbelief. Still grinning, Tony turned to Steve and held out his arm charmingly, "Shall we?"

Steve couldn't help the laughter that bubbled forth.

As the pair walked ahead, Clint turned to Natasha looking for support.

"You had that coming," she stated indifferently. "If he hadn't, I might have."

Bruce laughed, too, "She's right, we did ruin their date."

Thor thought the whole thing hilarious.

Clint sighed in surrender, "Yeah, I did. I should probably apologize."

-#-#-#-

Steve and Tony reached home first and had an elevator all to themselves. As they waited the billionaire leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

Steve smiled at him, "I like your shirt."

Tony uncrossed his arms and stepped closer, "I like it, too."

It seemed so long since they had touched one another, been together. Strong hands reached out to settle on the slim hips, hooking his fingers in Tony's jeans to pull him close. Steve looked from Tony's eyes to his lips, then dipped his head to kiss the other man hungrily.

Tony had been waiting for this for what seemed like ages. His arms came up to lock around the broad shoulders as Steve's hands drifted down to grip Tony's ass; they fit together like puzzle pieces. Steve lifted the smaller man's weight easily, and Tony wrapped his strong legs around the soldier's waist. Lips locked, they stumbled out the elevator and into the room.

Tony sucked hard at the strong neck, muttering against the soft flesh, "Remember when we were on that mission… in the abandoned house."

Steve groaned, moving them up the stairs. "I remember you on your knees after the USO show."

Tony rubbed against him, already hard and straining, "Christ, it was hot… when you took me against the wall."

Steve moved faster.

As soon as they reached Tony's room, the smaller man started throwing off his clothes. Steve tossed him on the bed as he hurriedly stripped as well.

Now naked, Tony stretched out on the bed and watched his lover avidly. Somewhere in his mind he knew it had only been two days since their last time, but for Steve it had been years. Tony's heart broke at the thought. His light flickering a little, he moved to his knees and watched Steve hungrily, his perfect form illuminated by the perpetual blue glow.

Steve paused, seeing the look in his lover's eyes, "What's wrong?"

The shorter man shifted on the bed and his dog tags clinked against his arc reactor. Smiling, he opened his arms to pull the big man close, kissing wherever his mouth could reach, feeling large hands dance across his well-muscled back.

Tony didn't want to wait; it had been so long since had been together.

It was an odd, pleasurable feeling – completely new, yet so familiar. He'd been with Tony a year and a half, yet in this time they hadn't been together. Steve bent over him to kiss the warm neck, moving lower to lavish attention where metal met skin.

Gasping, Tony moaned; of all the things Steve did to him, this was the most singularly erotic. All others had shied away from him and his mechanical heart; Steve had embraced it.

Tony reached into the bedside table and grabbed the lube. When he passed it to the other man, Steve wanted to laugh; his body certainly seemed to know what to do, even if his mind was still a little hesitant. As Steve opened the tube, Tony arched against him, nimble fingers tangling in blond hair as the blond nipped at his nipple. Tony moaned wantonly as slick fingers slid inside him, moving quickly to stretch him wide. It seemed like forever since they'd done this, but his body remembered very well.

Reaching up, he bit Steve's ear, "I need you."

The Cap didn't need to be told twice. He quickly pulled out his fingers, though he struggled with shaking hands to open the tube again.

Smiling softly, Tony sat up and took over. Opening the tube easily, he squirted some on his fingers and slicked up his lover as he kissed him hungrily. Crawling onto the other man's lap, he steadied his erection and sank slowly onto it.

Groaning, Steve grasped the slim hips hard enough to bruise.

"Steve," Tony moaned, feeling every inch of the man deep inside him. They paused, intimately joined, and the dark haired man wrapped his arms around his lover tightly as he shifted. "I missed you," he mumbled, "So much." Steve kissed him tenderly, moving his hips as Tony rode him.

Panting, Tony held onto strong shoulders as Steve thrust into him, grunting softly. Tony shuddered as he heard his name interspersed with "oh God" and "yes." Sweaty and moaning, they rocked together on the large bed.

"I almost miss the creak of those bed springs in the lab," he huffed, arching his back. Steve groaned as vivid images of their first time played in his mind.

"Tony, I'm ahhh…" As Steve's movements grew erratic, Tony grabbed his own hard erection.

"Come for me, baby," Tony moaned as he gripped himself, pulling as he pushed back against Steve. It was too much for the soldier. Tony looked utterly debauched as he touched himself; the big man was falling over the edge. With a final thrust he was spilling deep inside Tony. Shuddering the billionaire jerked himself a couple more times before he spilled into his hand.

Boneless. they collapsed together in a sweaty mess, unwilling to move and break the spell. They touched each other softly, hands mapping every plane and angle of muscle, whispering quietly, the room dark save Tony's light.

A nimble hand smoothed blond hair from the strong forehead. "Why didn't you let me save you that day?" Tony asked, voicing the question had been haunting him since the plane. He looked into Steve's eyes earnestly. "I know how much you hate it here," he trailed off, smiling sadly. "You could have stayed, been the hero."

Steve returned the look solemn. Taking a deep breath, he answered honestly, "If there was a chance to be with you again, I wanted to take it. 70 years in the ice was worth the wait for you."

The words went right to Tony's battered heart. He closed his eyes painfully; taking a shaky breath, he wondered what he had done in a past life to deserve such a wonderful, perfect man.

"Why did you wait to return?" Steve returned in a bare whisper, both anticipating and fearing the answer.

Tony cupped his face, "You know why. It's the reason I followed that moron into the past to begin with, the reason I joined the military in 1943, and the one thing I couldn't bear to leave behind… you." Steve's eyes were suspiciously moist as Tony continued, "It's always been you, Steve." They kissed softly, sweetly.

"I love you, Steve," Tony continued. "I should have said it a million times before, but I say it now and mean it with every bit of this mechanical heart."

Steve was crying now, tears leaving tracks down his face. It wasn't the prettiest of pictures Tony had ever seen – Captain America was not a cute crier – but he wouldn't change a hair on his head. "I love you, too, Tony, so much," Steve choked out. "Even before you went back in time."

The kissed a while longer before Tony disentangled himself, "Come on, beautiful. Let's shower before we start sticking together."

Laughing, Steve wiped his nose and grabbed the offered hand, not wanting to be apart from him for a heartbeat. He had waited so long for this man, almost seventy years, and he wasn't going to let him go now.


	15. Time After Time

Author's Note: Thanks so much to all the support and readers out there and a big shout out to my beta ravingbeauty thank you for your work and dedication for helping me get this story out there. Here's to you.

Man Out of Time

Epilogue - Time After Time

"It's utterly disgusting how adorable they are," Clint commented loudly from his spot at the kitchen table as he watched Tony kiss Steve on the cheek before heading to his lab for the day.

The billionaire flipped him off, "Watch it or I'll clock you again."

Tasha snorted, glancing at the now mulish looking archer; the bruise on his jaw had yet to fade.

It had been a hectic week following Tony's passage through time. Fury seemed to think they would be able to recreate the time machine easily now that the brilliant inventor had returned. Fury hadn't banked on the genius being so unhelpful, though. Tony adamantly refused to share any of his knowledge, and it bugged the Director to no end.

Steve was secretly pleased; he didn't think anyone should hold that kind of power.

The blond watched his boyfriend depart, smiling to himself. After their night together, he had found his things in Tony's suite the next morning with no fuss. And the team had accepted them immediately, no questions asked.

Tony had been right about this time. He was free to be himself, to express his love openly. It had been worth the wait to have what he did now. Grinning rather sappily to himself, he bid Tasha and Clint goodbye before heading to SHIELD.

-#-#-#-

Down in his lab Tony was gleefully putting the finishing touches on his plan. He looked critically at his latest project.

"If I may say so, sir, it is some of your finest work," JARVIS commented from above him.

The inventor snorted, "Kiss ass. You're right, though. Next to my suit, it's just about my favorite thing." Turning it this way and that, he checked it over one last time. Finally satisfied, Tony moved to the metal footlocker sitting innocently in the center of the table.

Working on a hunch, he had charmed the archivist at SHIELD into seeing if there was anything in the old files that had belonged to an Anthony Starling. Much to his surprise, his footlocker was there amongst all of his father's old gear from Project Rebirth. It had just arrived this morning and he was more than a little curious as to its contents.

It looked much older than when he'd seen it last, his name on the metal faded and worn. When he opened it, the rusty hinges squeaked loudly. Dark eyes eagerly scanned the contents, pleased to see his dress uniform, though he wrinkled his nose at the smell of must. After shaking it out, he set the uniform aside.

The uniform was followed by an old pair of combats, extra boots, and some papers and drawings he had done for Howard. As he shuffled through the stack of papers his fingers paused near the edge of a photo, then curiously tugged the faded black and white picture free. Surprised, he blinked as the image registered. Despite his best efforts to avoid pictures, someone had apparently snapped a candid shot of Steve and him.

The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile. They were both so dirty they must have just returned from a mission. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows as he leaned on his rifle, laughing at something the smirking Captain America had said. Chuckling, he set it aside; he'd dig up a frame for that later.

There wasn't much left now save a letter addressed to Tony Starling. Curious, he turned the yellowing paper over in his hands and opened it carefully. He recognized the distinctive script in an instant – Howard.

_Tony,_

_It took me some time, and my own not inconsiderable genius, to figure it out. Even then it wasn't until the birth of my son, Anthony Stark, that I truly put it all together. _

_The moment we met I felt I had found a kindred spirit. I was amazed to meet someone on my level of understanding. My impressions proved true. So few fathers get to see the men their sons become, and while I feel I barely scratched the surface, I was truly privileged to have glimpsed something incredible. _

_I hope that whatever you do in life, son, you do with the same passion, energy, and dedication you showed me. You have been and always will be my greatest invention. _

_Howard Stark_

Knees suddenly unable to support him, Tony Stark slumped onto his stool. He gently held the letter in his trembling hands, ignoring the tears making their way across his cheeks. Shoulders shaking, he wiped at his eyes. "Damn it, dad…" he mumbled as he folded the letter and carefully placed it on his workspace.

Tony was shaken from his thoughts abruptly as a deafening alarm blared, echoing off the concrete walls of the lab. Putting aside his personal troubles, he immediately hurried to suit up; the Avengers were being called. His race to the battle stalled, though, when he saw an incoming call from Natasha.

"I'm on my way," he called as he dashed across the lab.

"No need, Tony. Clint, Steve, and I have it under control. It's not as bad as we thought."

He paused, arching a brow, "You sure?"

She nodded, "Absolutely, we'll have Cap home for dinner."

Nodding in understanding, the man ended the call; at least it would give him time to prepare.

-#-#-#-

It had been a terrible day.

Exhausted, sweaty, and feeling sorry for himself, Steve dragged his battered body back to the Tower. All he wanted was to shower and find Tony. He was halfway to the stairs when he heard music and paused. Frowning, he strained his enhanced hearing.

The music wasn't Tony's usual taste; it was mellow, soft, and very familiar. He stood straight, blinking when he recognized the tune.

_Let's say goodbye with a smile, dear,_

_Just for a while, dear, we must part._

He hurried towards the lab, chest tight. Gasping he burst through the doors, his heart stuttering at the sight before him.

_Don't let this parting upset you,_

_I'll not forget you, sweetheart. _

Tony stood casually in the center of the room wearing his dress uniform, cap tilted jauntily. He looked so heartbreakingly handsome and familiar in the uniform. Then Tony shot him a charming smile, "Care for a dance, soldier?"

_We'll meet again,_

_Don't know where, don't know when._

Steve bit his lip and stepped forward; reaching out, he grasped a callused hand in his. Tony tugged him closer and settled one hand on his hip, while the other clasped his hand. With easy grace, he guided him across the room as Vera Lynn sang on.

_But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day._

"Tony," Steve muttered, leaning down to kiss the man softly, sweetly. "What brought this on?" he mumbled against the mouth he loved so much.

Smiling, the smaller man spun him teasingly, "I promised you a dance."

Tears welled up in Steve's blue eyes and they stopped in the center of the room, the soldier holding on tightly.

_Keep smiling through,_

_Just like you always do._

"That night at the pub when I asked you about the future, I was hoping…" he cupped Tony's face and brushed back the dark hair.

Tony smiled at him softly, "Hoping what?"

Steve sighed, "That we could have a future."

'_Til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away._

Tony trembled with nerves, sure that Steve could hear his heart beating from a mile away. Taking a deep breath, he gripped Steve's hands, dropped to one knee, and looked up into Steve's astonished, uncomprehending blue eyes.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the ring he'd been working on all week. Tony had never made any sort of jewelry before, but for his first attempt he thought he'd done rather well. "It's a combination of vibranium and my arc reactor."

Steve was frozen in shock.

After a few moments Tony cleared his throat nervously, "Didn't think this would be so hard." He pulled his cap off and fidgeted nervously with the brim for a moment, "Steven Grant Rogers, I know I can be an utter pain, I tend to do my own thing, and I rarely listen. But I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life trying to be the kind of man you think I am. Will you marry me?"

The silence stretched out as Steve continued to stare at him, wide-eyed.

Tony, still on one knee, was getting a little worried, "Do you, umm… maybe need some time to think?" He was terrified now; perhaps he'd jumped the gun a bit.

Steve finally managed to snap out of his shock and fell to his knees in front of Tony, "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes." Steve was kissing him then, Tony relieved and kissing back.

"Scared me there for a minute," Tony mumbled as he slipped the ring onto Steve's finger and admired his handiwork. "Try breaking that, Spangles." Laughing, the other man kissed him again hard before Tony pulled away to speak again, "It took us 70 years, but I think it was worth the wait. I love you, Steve."

Steve admired the band on his finger with a grin, "I love you, too, man out of time."

Tony laughed and pulled him close. They kissed lovingly as the future stretched out before them, a bright promising unknown.

End.


End file.
